Mi 


AN  EASTERN  TOUR 


AT  HOME. 


BY 

JOEL  _COOK, 

Author  of  "A  Holiday  Tour  inTajrope,"  "  England  Picturesque 
AND  Descriptive,"  etc.,  etc. 


REPRINTED  FROM  THE  PHILADELPHIA 
PUBLIC  LEDGER. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

DAVID   McKAY,   PUBLISHER, 

23  South  Ninth  Street. 

1889. 


Copyright,  1889,  by  DAVID  McKAY. 


Westcott  &  Thomson, 
Stereotypers  and  Electrotypers,  Philada. 


INTRODUCTORY.  ' 


It  is  the  belief  of  the  writer  of  the  prefatory  note  to 
this  book  that  neither  the  book  itself  nor  its  author  needs 
to  be  introduced,  for  its  contents  already  enjoy  high  favor 
with  a  large  portion  of  the  reading  public  by  reason  of 
the  original  serial  publication  of  the  articles  in  the  Public 
Ledger,  and  the  author  is  widely  known  through  his  other 
contributions  to  this  class  of  descriptive  literature.  Still,  as 
the  Publisher  prefers  an  introduction,  the  undersigned  per- 
forms the  ceremony  of  presentation  with  real  satisfaction. 

While  the  volume  is  entitled  An  Eastern  Tour,  it  is 
not  to  be  understood  that  it  means  a  tour  in  "  Oriental " 
countries.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  limited  to  that  near-by 
region  embraced  in  the  Eastern  States  of  our  own  country 
between  Pennsylvania  and  Maine,  including  portions  of  the 
States  of  New  Jersey,  New  York,  Rhode  Island,  Connecti- 
cut, Massachusetts,  and  New  Hampshire  as  well — a  region 
much  more  important  in  all  ways  to  every-day  Americans 
than  any  Oriental  country  can'  be,  and  in  many  respects 
quite  as  interesting. 

]\Ir.  Cook  has  certainly  made  his  narrative  extremely 
interesting,  so  much  so  as  to  cause  a  demand  that  his 
serial  articles  should  be  reproduced  in  collected  form  in 
a  book.  He  has  the  faculty  of  seeing  in  familiar  scenes 
and  places  notable  features  and  aspects  usually  overlooked 


4  INTKODUCTORY. 

by  other  writers,  and  of  giving  to  his  narrative  and  descrip- 
tions the  sparkle  of  sprightliness,  freshness,  and  life,  in 
company  with  marked  graphic  power.  These  character- 
istics give  such  a  charm  to  his  descriptive  writings  that 
many  people  are  at  a  loss  to  couple  them  with  his  matter- 
of-fact  and  prosaic  vocation  of  Financial  Editor  of  the 
Piihlic  Ledger. 

But  the  volume  has  merit  of  far  more  importance  than 
commonly  comes  with  a  tourist's  narrative.  The  book, 
besides  the  general  interest  always  aroused  by  vividly- 
described  travel,  is  valuable  because  of  the  interwoven 
facts,  data,  history,  tradition,  poetry,  and  anecdote  that 
exhibit  the  very  life,  great  activities,  and  wealth  of 
resource   of  the   country   traversed   by   the  author. 

W.  V.  McKEAN, 
Public  Ledger  Office,  |  Editw-in-Chief. 

October  1,  1889.         | 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  The  Bound  Brook  Eoute 7 

II.  The  Metropolis — New  York 13 

III.  New  York — A  Survey  of  Manhattan  Island — 

Broadway      20 

IV.  New  York— Broadway  Characteristics  ....  28 
V.  New  York — Fifth  Avenue 34 

VI.  New  York — The  Vanderbilts 41 

VII.  The  New  York  Central  Park — The  Elevated 

Kailways 49 

VIII.  The  East  Kiver — The  Brooklyn  Bridge  |  •   •   •  57 

IX.  The  City  of  Churches— Brooklyn 64 

X.  Going  to  Coney  Island 71 

XI.  The  American  Brighton — Coney  Island    ...  78 

XII.  New  York  Harbor 85 

XIII.  Staten  Island     91 

XIV.  The  New  York  Annexed  District 99 

XV.  Entering  New  England— Connecticut    ....  105 

XVI.  The  City  of  Elms— New  Haven 112 

'XVII.  The  Connecticut  Valley — Hartford 118 

XVIII.  The  Connecticut  Intervales — Massachusetts  .  126 

XIX.  Mount  Holyoke— The  Hoosacs 133 

XX.  The  Berkshire  Hills — Lenox 141 

XXI.  Traversing  the  Old   Bay  State — The   Black- 
stone  Kiver 149 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XXII.  The  Land  of  the  Nakragansetts — Providence.  157 

XXIII.  Charming  Newport  of  Aquidneck 165 

XXIV.  From  Narragansett  to  the  Sea 173 

XXV.  The  Old  Colony — Plymouth 179 

XXVI.  The  Modern  Athens — Boston 187 

XXVII.  A  Kamble  through  Boston 191 

XXVIII.  Boston  Characteristics — Harvard 202 

XXIX.  The  Massachusetts  North  Shore 209 

XXX.  The  Granite  Buttress  of  Cape  Ann    ....  216 

XXXI.  Going  Down  East— New  Hampshire 223 

XXXII.  The  Isles  of  Shoals 231 

XXXIII.  Entering  the  Pine-tree  State— Portland    .  238 

XXXIV.  The  Eiver  of  Norumbega 246 

XXXV.  The  Great  Penobscot  Bay — Islesboro'     .   .   .  254 

XXXVI.  Mount  Desert— Bar  Harbor— The  End  ...  262 


AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 


I. 

THE  BOUND  BROOK  ROUTE. 

During  several  years  past  the  Philadelphia  and  Read- 
ing Kailroad  has  had  in  successful  operation  its  new  line 
between  Ninth  and  Green  streets,  Philadelphia,  and  New 
York,  popularly  known  as  the  "  Bound  Brook  Koute."  It 
passes  out  through  the  northern  suburbs,  and,  skirting  Ger- 
mantown,  crosses  the  lowlands  beyond  Wayne  Junction, 
bisecting  diagonally  Mr.  Clayton  French's  magnificent 
avenue  of  overarching  trees  leading  up  to  his  residence, 
and  then  goes  on  to  the  picturesque  scenery  of  the  North 
Pennsylvania  road.  Its  rails  are  laid  in  a  lovely  section, 
the  train  now  darting  into  rock-cuttings  and  over  purling 
brooks  and  beside  pretty  sheets  of  water,  and  then  out 
upon  the  open,  rolling  ground  dotted  with  beautiful  villas, 
gliding  by  charming  little  stations  and  across  field  and 
meadow,  moving  swiftly  and  smoothly  as  the  car- windows 
display  in  dissolving  views  the  gorgeously  variegated 
panorama  of  Philadelphia's  fascinating  scenic  environ- 
ment upon  a  balmy  summer  morning.  Past  Ashbourne 
and  Ogontz  and  Chelten  Hills,  with  a  brief  halt  at  Jen- 
kintown,  the  train  leaves  the  North  Penn  road  and  rushes 
across  country,  seeking  the  Delaware  River  above  Trenton. 
There  are  broad  farms  and  many  villas,  sloping  lawns  and 
bits  of  woodland  on  the  hillsides,  the  delicious  green  of 
grass  and  foliage  varied  by  brown  fields  and  waving  grain. 


8  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

Many  cattle  graze  and  the  farmers  are  out  at  work.  The  vil- 
lages are  all  growing  settlements,  their  new  cottages  placed 
on  pleasant  sites.  Somerton  is  passed  and  the  Neshaminy 
crossed,  its  little  waterfall  just  above  the  railway-bridge 
being  the  momentary  centre  of  an  attractive  landscape,  the 
narrow  lake  above  having  on  either  hand  a  sloping  grove 
where  picnic-parties  gather  under  the  shade  of  the  trees. 
Langhorne  is  darted  by,  its  newest  cottages  having  huge 
overhanging  red  roofs,  and  the  village  getting  ready  to 
become  a  town  of  pretension  and  summer  fashion.  Beyond, 
the  surface  flattens  as  the  Delaware  is  approached,  but  it  is 
good  land  and  superbly  cultivated,  the  level  fields  appear- 
ing, were  it  not  for  the  trees  and  patches  of  woodland, 
much  like  a  far  Western  prairie.  Soon  the  river  is  reached 
at  Yardiey,  the  railway  crossing  upon  a  long  trestle  and 
bridge.  Here,  as  the  Delaware  flows  in  almost  straight 
course  through  the  flat  valley,  is  displayed  a  quiet  rural 
view  of  forest,  meadow,  and  stream.  Each  bank  has  a 
canal  or  two,  and  long  stretches  of  river  are  visible  far 
up  and  down.  A  short  distance  above  is  another  bridge, 
while  below  a  narrow  island  is  set  in  the  scene,  with  the 
Trenton  steeples  and  pottery-smokes  making  a  distant 
background. 

CROSSING   NEW   JERSEY. 

The  train  runs  into  New  Jersey,  and,  moving  over  the 
dark-red  soils  beyond  the  river,  the  low,  outcropping  spurs 
of  the  Highlands  come  gradually  into  sight  to  the  north- 
ward. Then  higher  hills  are  seen,  at  first  dimly  blue  in 
the  long  view  over  the  intervening  surface,  but,  approached 
nearer,  rising  more  boldly  as  the  route  skirts  the  level  land 
stretching  to  their  bases.  Forests  cover  their  sides,  and 
occasionally  they  go  far  away  from  us.  Little  houses  may 
be  seen  among  the  trees,  and  some  peep  out  on  their  sum- 
mits. Thus  moving,  we  cross  the  Lehigh  Valley  Railroad, 
which  comes  out  from  among  these  hills,  and  the  Raritan 


CKOSSING  NEW  JERSEY.  9 

River  that  drains  them,  and  soon  stop  at  the  little  winding 
Bound  Brook  that  feeds  the  latter.  This  stream  has  named 
the  village  which  has  grown  up  at  the  junction  of  the  Read- 
ing and  Jersey  Central  roads,  and  the  place  nestles  under 
the  shadow  of  a  great  ridge,  with  the  Raritan  washing  its 
southern  edge.  The  Lehigh  Valley  Railroad,  coming  over 
from  Easton  on  its  way  to  Amboy,  now  keeps  us  company 
for  a  brief  space  as  the  train  starts  up  again  on  the  Jersey 
Central  tracks  and  moves  through  the  valley  south  of  the 
long,  high,  forest-clad  ridge  bounding  its  northern  verge  as 
far  as  eye  can  see.  This  railway  traverses  a  section  that 
seems  almost  like  one  continuous  town,  it  is  so  thickly  set- 
tled, and  heavy  traffic  moves  upon  the  line  in  coal  and 
other  freio;ht.  Past  Dunellen  and  a  dozen  other  settle- 
ments,  and  still  skirting  the  base  of  the  dark-green  ridge, 
we  rush  through  Plainfield  and  many  villages  beyond.  The 
route  has  turned  eastward,  and  at  length  gradually  leaves 
the  hills  behind  as  distance  fades  them  into  hazy  blue.  The 
Lehigh  Valley  line  also  goes  off  on  the  right  hand  toward 
Amboy.  We  pass  many  suburban  settlements  peopled  by 
the  overflow  from  New  York,  and,  having  moved  far  away 
from  the  hills  and  out  on  the  flat  land,  the  train  enters  the 
city  of  Elizabeth,  its  broad  and  shady  streets  being  laid 
upon  the  dark-red,  level  soils  that  border  the  little  Eliza- 
beth River.  In  the  heart  of  the  town  we  diagonally  cross 
the  tracks  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad,  also  bound  to 
New  Y^ork. 

Elizabeth  rapidly  dissolves  into  Elizabethport  as  we  run 
along  the  meadows  and  to  the  northward  see  Newark  spread 
broadly  across  the  view.  As  the  terminals  on  the  kills  and 
the  sounds  are  approached,  the  railway-tracks  multiply,  and 
the  long  lines  of  coal-cars  show  the  trade  that  is  conducted. 
AVe  glide  past  the  extensive  works  of  the  Singer  Sewing 
Machine  Company.  Over  the  broad  expanse  of  Newark 
Bay  the  train  trundles  upon  a  long  trestle  bridge,  with  the 
boats  of  the  fishermen  and  oyster-dredgers  dotted  upon  the 


10  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

smooth  waters,  and  the  hills  of  Staten  Island  off  to  the  east- 
ward. Beyond  the  bay  is  the  town  of  Bergen  Point,  and 
the  railway  is  then  laid  near  the  bank  of  the  Kill  von 
Kull,  with  the  attractive  sloping  shores  of  Staten  Island 
on  the  opposite  side.  We  have  thus  come  upon  Paulus 
Hook,  the  tongue  of  land,  with  its  rocky  backbone  of  Ber- 
gen Hill,  which  is  thrust  out  between  Newark  Bay  and 
the  Hudson  River.  Our  railway  avoids  the  hill  by  going 
around  its  lower  end,  while  the  others  have  to  pierce  it  by 
tunnels  or  cuttings.  Swiftly  gliding  through  the  villages 
amid  a  maze  of  tracks,  with  coal  and  oil  freight-cars  by 
hundreds  stored  everywhere,  suddenly  in  front  of  Bayonne 
is  got  the  first  glimpse  of  New  York  harbor.  The  great 
Liberty  statue  on  Bedloe's  Island,  with  uplifted  torch,  is  in 
full  view,  while  behind  the  Gallic  goddess  rises  the  Brook- 
lyn bridge,  throwing  its  distant  span  across  the  East  River, 
some  eight  miles  away.  Brooklyn  is  beyond,  its  hills  stretch- 
ing across  to  the  Narrows  seen  over  the  water,  w^ith  ships  in 
the  offing  and  many  craft  sailing  about  under  the  stiff  breeze. 
This  splendid  view  develops  as  we  move  along  the  edge  of 
the  harbor  and  approach  Communipaw,  the  lower  end  of 
Jersey  City.  Here  is  Port  Liberty,  the  Reading  coal-ship- 
ping port,  with  the  Liberty  statue  out  in  front  as  a  guardian. 
The  passenger  terminals  are  upon  a  peninsula  just  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Hudson,  pushed  out  between  the  harbor  and 
the  capacious  basin  of  the  Morris  Canal,  which  is  led  over 
here  from  Newark.  In  a  moment  we  glide  into  the  mag- 
nificent new  station  of  the  Jersey  Central  and  Reading 
lines,  the  finest  in  Jersey  City,  and  the  railway  journey 
is  ended.  It  is  a  broad  and  capacious  structure,  just  com- 
pleted, built  of  ornamental  brick,  with  an  impressive  front 
elevation  and  surmounted  by  a  clock-face  of  large  dimen- 
sions, making  the  most  attractive  building  seen  on  the 
Hudson  River  front  of  Jersey  City.  There  are  ample 
train-sheds  and  ferry-slips,  and  a  regiment  of  troops  could 
manoeuvre  in  the  capacious  head-house  of  this  great  station. 


THE  HUDSON  KIVER.  11 


THE    HUDSON   RIVER. 

We  go  out  upon  the  ferry-boat  for  the  transfer  across  to 
New  York.  Before  us  flows  Hendrick  Hudson's  famous 
"  River  of  the  Mountains  "  that  has  made  the  metropolis. 
Across  its  broad  bosom  are  the  docks,  sheds,  and  shipping 
of  the  great  city,  with  the  buildings  rising  behind  them 
that  are  the  stranger's  first  view  of  New  York.  Directly 
opposite  is  Castle  Garden,  the  low,  circular  building  origi- 
nally a  fort  and  afterward  a  place  of  amusement,  but  now 
the  depot  where  the  immigrants  land  on  their  arrival  in  the 
New  World.  Alongside  is  the  attractive  foliage  of  the 
Battery  Park,  and  just  below  the  little  round  yellow  Cas- 
tle William,  on  Governor's  Island,  which,  with  the  Battery 
Castle  (then  called  Clinton),  was  the  original  defender  of 
the  town.  The  great  Produce  Exchange  tower  and  the  tall 
Washington  Building,  one  on  either  side  of  the  Park,  stand 
up  as  sentinels  at  the  lower  end  of  Broadway,  while  behind 
them  stretch  far  to  the  northward  the  many  huge  buildings 
and  steeples  marking  the  line  of  that  famous  street,  promi- 
nent among  them  being  the  graceful  spire  of  Trinity  Church. 
As  the  ferry-boat  carefully  threads  its  way  among  the  ves- 
sels by  the  aid  of  much  screeching  of  the  steam-whistle, 
and  moves  out  into  mid-stream,  turning  northward,  it 
brings  into  full  view  both  sides  of  the  great  river.  On 
the  left  hand,  the  Jersey  City  front  for  miles  is  occupied 
by  railway  terminals,  making  successions  of  docks,  ferry- 
houses,  and  grain-elevators.  Here  come  in  all  the  lines 
from  the  West  excepting  the  New  York  Central,  and  from 
these  depots  and  wharves  their  rails  extend  to  the  most  re- 
mote parts  of  the  continent.  Yet  Jersey  City  is  entirely  a 
growth  of  the  present  century,  at  the  beginning  of  which  it 
had  a  population  of  only  thirteen  persons,  living  in  a  single 
house.  Its  great  expansion  has  come  from  the  overflow  of 
New  York  during  the  development  of  the  railway  system 
in  the  past  thirty  years.     While  spreading  upon  much  sur- 


12     .  AN  EASTERN  TOUK. 

face,  yet  it  has  little  attraction  beyond  its  enormous  railway 
terminals  and  the  factories  that  are  adjacent.  Jersey  City 
is  adjoined  to  the  northward  by  Hoboken,  where,  in  strange 
contrast  with  the  commercial  aspect  of  everything  around, 
the  river  front  rises  in  a  bluff  shore  crowned  by  a  grove 
of  trees  and  running  up  into  a  low  mound,  whereon  is  the 
"Stevens  Castle."  This  was  the  home  of  Edwin  A.  Ste- 
vens, one  of  the  pioneer  railway  princes  of  New  Jersey,  and 
a  projector  of  the  famous  "  Camden  and  Amboy  Railroad," 
which  was  formerly  the  pride  and  the  despot  of  that  State. 
He  endowed  the  Stevens  Institute  of  Technology  at  Hobo- 
ken, and  spent  his  declining  years  in  building,  at  great  ex- 
pense, a  noted  warship  for  New  York  harbor  defence — the 
Stevens  battery — which  he  bequeathed  to  the  State  of  New 
Jersey,  and  that  thrifty  commonwealth  shortly  after  sold  to 
the  highest  bidder,  to  be  broken  up  for  old  iron. 

Beyond  is  Weehawken,  where  Aaron  Burr  killed  Alex- 
ander Hamilton  in  the  duel  of  1804  that  caused  such  a 
commotion — then  a  pleasant  rural  retreat,  but  now  also 
absorbed  by  railway  terminals.  Behind  Jersey  City  rises 
the  long  ridge  of  Bergen  Hill,  whose  outcroppings  above 
Weehawken  come  forward  to  the  Hudson  River  bank  in 
the  grand  escarpment  of  the  Palisades,  stretching  to  the 
northward.  These  remarkable  columnar  formations,  ex- 
tending for  twenty  miles  along  the  w^estern  shore  of  the 
river,  are  of  trap  rock,  and  in  part  appear  to  be  built  up 
of  basalt,  not  unlike  the  vast  amphitheatres  adjacent  to  the 
Giant's  Causeway  in  the  north  of  Ireland.  Occasionally 
patches  of  trees  grow  on  their  sides  and  tops,  while  the 
broken  rocks  and  rubbish  that  have  fallen  down  make  a 
sloping  surface  from  about  halfway  up  their  height  to  the 
edge  of  the  water.  In  some  places  these  strange  rocks  rise 
five  hundred  feet.  Thus,  stretching  from  Communipaw  to 
the  end  of  the  flat  land  where  it  is  encroached  upon  by  the 
Palisades,  are  the  wide-spreading  lines  of  Jersey  terminals, 
while  over  on  the  New  York  side  the  long  covered  piers  are 


THE  METEOPOLIS.  13 

thrust  out,  with  great  steamboats,  car-floats,  lighters,  and 
huge  ocean-steamers  in  their  intervening  docks.  As  we 
take  in  this  unrivalled  exhibition  of  the  vast  parapherna- 
lia of  commerce,  the  boat  gradually  turns  into  the  ferry- 
slip,  and,  after  sundry  bumps  and  gyrations,  is  made  fast, 
and  we  are  landed  in  New  York. 


it 

THE  METROPOLIS. 


"We  have  come  to  the  American  metropolis,  which  the 
geography  says  is  upon  the  island  of  jNlanhattan.  Why 
the  city  is  called  New  York  we  know,  but  why  should  the 
island  have  been  named  Manhattan?  There  is  a  vague 
legend  that  the  first  European  who  looked  upon  this  mag- 
nificent harbor  was  the  Florentine  Verrazani,  who  came  as 
early  as  1524.  The  redoubtable  Hendrick  Hudson,  how- 
ever, is  universally  recognized  as  the  authentic  discoverer. 
Searching  along  the  American  coast  for  the  "North-west 
Passage"  to  the  Indies,  he  steered  his  fifty-ton  ship  into 
the  bay  in  1609,  and  when  he  saw  the  great  river  was 
sure  he  had  found  the  long-sought  route.  So  he  landed 
on  the  island  with  his  crew  and  sundry  kegs  of  seductive 
"  schnapps ;"  soon  made  good  friends  wdth  the  Indians ; 
and  Ticknor  in  his  guide-book  tells  us  that  "from  the 
scene  of  wassail  and  merriment  which  followed  the  meet- 
ing of  the  sailors  and  the  natives,  the  Indians  named  the 
island  Manhattan,  '  the  place  where  they  all  got  drunk.' " 
Thus  at  its  birth  did  the  infant  settlement  acquire  a  repu- 
tation which  many  visitors  say  exists  with  undiminished 
lustre  in  its  maturer  years.  Hudson  being  a  Dutchman, 
the  settlement  was  called  "  New  Amsterdam,"  and  the  land 
across  the  East  River  "  Nassau,"  the  earliest  name  of  Long 


14  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR. 

Island.  But  five  years  were  occupied  in  firmly  fixing  the 
colony  on  Manhattan,  which,  when  fairly  started  in  1614, 
was  a  small  palisade  fort  with  four  little  houses.  Here 
originated  the  Dutch  aristocracy  of  the  "  Knickerbockers," 
who  impressed  their  peculiarities  upon  the  early  metrop- 
olis, but  whose  descendants  are  giving  place  to  a  newer 
aristocracy  of  wealth  and  an  army  of  immigrants  from  all 
races.  The  colony  was  of  slow  growth,  and  land-values  on 
the  island  had  not  advanced  much  when  old  Peter  Minuit 
bought  it  in  1626.  He  was  the  Dutch  governor,  and,  again 
making  judicious  use  of  "  schnapps,"  bought  the  whole  of 
Manhattan  from  the  Indians  for  goods  worth  about  twenty- 
four  dollars.  That  sum  doesn't  go  very  far  on  any  part  of 
the  island  in  these  days.  There  were  a  thousand  people 
here  in  1644,  and  to  mark  the  northern  boundary  of  the 
settlement  a  fence  was  built  along  what  is  now  the  line  of 
Wall  Street.  An  Indian  scare  ten  years  later  caused  this 
fence  to  be  replaced  by  a  wall  of  cedar  palisades,  and  this 
ultimately  developed  into  the  city  wall.  Thus  enclosed, 
New  Amsterdam  became  a  walled  city,  around  which  His 
Honor  the  mayor  was  required  to  walk  every  morning  at 
sunrise,  unlock  all  the  gates,  and  give  the  key  to  the  com- 
mander of  the  fort.  When  the  duke  of  York's  expedition 
came  over  in  1664  and  overturned  the  government  of  old 
Peter  Stuyvesant,  surnamed  "the  Headstrong,"  and  knocked 
out  his  "  Knickerbockers,"  at  the  same  time  changing  the 
name  of  the  city,  it  had  three  hundred  and  eighty-four 
houses,  while  in  1700  the  population  had  increased  to 
about  six  thousand. 

TRINITY    CHURCH. 

The  ferry-boat,  landing  at  Liberty  Street,  has  set  its 
freight  of  j^assengers  and  vehicles  ashore.  Emerging  from 
the  ferry-house  to  the  street,  it  seems  as  if  Bedlam  were 
broken  loose,  such  is  the  horde  of  shouting  and  scuffling 
hackmen  trying  to  capture  the  people  and  their  baggage ; 


TRINITY  CHURCH.  15 

and  as  they  noisily  contend  it  requires  only  slight  imagina- 
tion to  convince  one  that  their  prevalent  brogue  indicates 
an  arrival  at  "  New  Ireland "  as  well  as  at  New  York. 
Swooping  down  on  their  prey,  those  not  trying  to  get  pos- 
session seem  anxious  to  drive  their  hacks  over  you.  West 
Street,  stretching  along  the  Hudson  River  bank  and  having 
a  street-railway,  fronts  the  ferry.  It  is  muddy,  and  almost 
impassable  from  the  jam  of  vehicles  of  all  kinds  trying  to 
move  in  various  directions,  while  a  few  sparsely-distributed 
policemen  endeavor  to  maintain  a  semblance  of  order.  An 
effort  is  required  to  break  through  this  struggling  blockade, 
but  the  plunge  is  made  amidst  a  conglomeration  of  wagons, 
people,  cars,  horses,  policemen,  and  mud  ;  the  gauntlet  is  run, 
and  we  are  soon  on  the  way  through  Liberty  Street  to  Broad- 
way. This  wonderful  highway,  the  artery  of  the  metropolis, 
is  quickly  reached,  and,  turning  southward,  a  few  steps  take 
us  to  the  "  Westminster  Abbey  "  of  New  Y'ork — Trinity 
Church.  This  famous  edifice  stands  on  Broadway  at  the 
head  of  \yall  Street,  and  its  chimes  morning;  and  eveninsr 
summon  the  restless,  brokers  to  attend  divine  services,  yet 
few  pay  heed.  It  is  a  wealthy  parish  and  maintains  a  mag- 
nificent choir.  The  old  graveyard  stretches  along  Broad- 
way, and  in  Church  Street,  behind  it,  the  elevated-railway 
trains  rush  by  every  few  minutes.  It  is  part  of  the  valuable 
domain  of  Old  Trinity  that  the  "  heirs  of  Anneke  Jans " 
have  for  many  years  been  trying  to  get  away  from  her  pos- 
session. Anneke  Jans  Bogardus  was  an  interesting  Dutch 
lady  who  died  in  Albany  in  1663,  after  having  survived  two 
husbands.  Her  first  husband  owned  the  whole  of  the  Hud- 
son River  front  of  New  York  from  Chambers  to  Canal 
Street,  with  a  wide  strip  running  out  to  Broadway.  Her 
heirs  sold  this  to  the  British  colonial  government,  and  it 
was  known  as  the  "  King's  Farm,"  being  afterward  given 
as  an  endowment  to  Trinity  Church.  It  is  now  worth  mil- 
lions, and  the  anxiety  to  get  possession  of  it  has  given  "the 
heirs  of  Anneke  Jans  "  a  world-wide  reputation. 


16  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR 

It  was  in  1696  that  the  first  Trinity  Church  was  built, 
being  afterward  burnt,  while  a  second  church  was  built  and 
taken  down,  to  be  replaced  over  fifty  years  ago  by  the  pres- 
ent fine  brownstone  edifice,  whose  magnificent  spire  rises  two 
hundred  and  eighty-four  feet.  Its  chancel  contains  the  splen- 
did Astor  reredos  of  marble,  glass,  and  precious  stones,  the 
memorial  of  the  late  William  B.  Astor.  From  the  steeple 
there  is  a  superb  view  over  lower  New  York  and  the  harbor. 
The  Battery  Park,  with  its  dense  foliage,  is  half  a  mile  away, 
and  beyond  are  countless  vessels  on  the  water.  In  the  fore- 
ground is  Governor's  Island  with  its  forts,  and  on  the  other 
side  of  the  channel  is  the  Liberty  statue,  while  seen  far  off 
over  the  harbor  are  the  blue  hills  of  Staten  Island  and  the 
water-route  through  the  Narrows  to  the  sea.  The  roar 
of  Broadway,  with  its  endless  moving  traffic,  comes  up 
to  the  ear,  and,  turning  northward,  the  great  street  can 
be  traced  far  away,  with  its  rows  of  stately  buildings  hem- 
ming in  the  bustling  throng.  Descending  to  the  church- 
yard, it  still  remains  a  mass  of  worn  and  battered  grave- 
stones, resting  quietly  in  the  busiest  part  of  New  York. 
This  tree-embowered  spot  has  been  a  burial-place  for 
nearly  two  hundred  years,  and  near  its  northern  side  is 
the  "  Martyrs'  Monument,"  erected  over  the  bones  of  the 
patriots  who  died  in  the  prison-ships  moored  on  the  Brook- 
lyn shore  during  the  Revolution.  It  is  darkly  hinted,  how- 
ever, that  it  was  not  so  much  the  reverent  memory  of  these 
martyrs  that  prompted  the  erection  of  the  monument  as  the 
desire  of  the  vestry  to  stop  the  proposed  opening  of  a  street 
through  the  yard.  It  is  also  noted  that  while  these  patriots 
were  in  prison  dying,  among  their  relentless  foes  was  Dr. 
Inglis,  the  rector  of  Trinity.  When  Washington  came 
into  New  York  in  1776,  he  desired  to  worship  there,  and 
sent  an  officer  to  Dr.  Inglis  on  Sunday  morning  to  request 
that  he  omit  reading  the  prayers  for  the  king  and  royal 
family.  The  doctor  refused,  and  afterward  said  :  "  It  is  in 
your  povrer  to  shut  up  the  churches,  but  you  cannot  make 


THE  KEW  YORK  FINANCIAL  CENTRE.  17 

the  clergy  depart  from  their  duty."  The  oldest  grave  in 
the  yard  dates  from  1681,  and  among  the  most  noted  is 
Charlotte  Temple's,  under  a  flat  stone  having  a  cavity  out 
of  which  the  inscription-plate  has  been  twice  stolen.  Her 
romantic  career  and  miserable  end,  resulting  in  a  duel,  have 
been  made  the  basis  of  a  novel.  William  Bradford's  grave 
is  here — one  of  Penn's  companions  in  founding  Philadel- 
phia, but  he  removed  to  New  York,  and  for  fifty  years  was 
the  official  printer.  A  brownstone  mausoleum  covers  the 
remains  of  Captain  James  Lawrence  of  the  frigate  Chesa- 
peake, killed  in  action  in  1813,  when  his  ship  was  captured 
by  the  British  frigate  Shannon,  his  dying  words  being, 
"  Don't  give  up  the  ship."  Here  are  buried  Alexander 
Hamilton  and  Robert  Fulton,  with  other  famous  men,  and 
almost  the  latest  grave  is  that  of  General  Philip  Kearney, 
killed  during  the  Civil  War. 

THE  NEW  YORK  FINANCIAL  CENTRE. 

Opposite  Trinity  Church  is  Wall  Street,  leading,  with 
winding  course  and  varying  width,  down  to  the  East 
River,  following  the  line  of  the  ancient  palisade  wall, 
which  it  has  replaced.  Here  are  the  bankers  and  brok- 
ers. Its  chief  point  of  concentrated  attraction  and  the 
financial  centre  of  the  United  States  is  one  block  down 
from  Broadway,  where  Broad  Street  enters  from  the  south 
and  the  narrower  Nassau  Street  goes  out  to  the  north. 
Here  stands,  at  the  corner  of  Wall  and  Broad  Streets,  the 
white  marble  Drexel  building,  while  on  the  opposite  corner 
of  Wall  and  Nassau  Streets  is  the  United  States  Treasury, 
with  the  Assay  Office  alongside.  The  three  leading  bank- 
ing-houses of  the  country  are  at  this  street  intersection — 
Drexel,  Morgan  &  Co.  at  one  corner,  and,  diagonally  across, 
Kidder,  Peabody  &  Co.  and  Brown  Bros.  &  Co.  IMr.  J. 
Pierpont  Morgan  in  the  intervals  of  his  financial  diplo- 
macy can  look  out  of  his  ofiice-window  at  the  Stock 
Exchange  on  the  other  side  of  Broad  Street,  which  is  the 

2 


18  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

theatre  of  vast  transactions,  and  at  times  of  enormous  ac- 
tivity, while  adjoining  his  office  is  the  towering  Mills  build- 
ing, the  home  of  many  bankers  and  brokers,  extending 
down  to  the  next  corner.  Exchange  Place.  These  struc- 
tures at  Broad  and  Wall  Streets  are  the  most  valuable  real 
estate  in  the  world.  The  Treasury  and  Assay  Office  contain 
in  their  vaults  most  of  the  gold  and  silver  owned  by  the 
United  States,  and  at  the  latter  the  kegs  of  gold  are  made 
up  that  go  to  Europe.  It  holds  millions  in  gold  bars,  whose 
duty  it  is  to  make  annual  excursions  in  fast  steamers  across 
the  ocean  and  back  again  to  adjust  our  foreign  exchange 
balances.  The  Treasury  is  a  white  marble  building,  fronted 
by  an  imposing  colonnade  and  a  broad  flight  of  steps,  and 
here  is  a  statue  of  Washington  on  the  spot  where  he  was 
inaugurated  the  first  President  of  the  United  States  in  1789, 
the  location  then  being  occupied  by  the  old  Federal  Hall, 
where  the  first  Congress  met.  Standing  by  the  statue  and 
looking  down  Broad  Street,  one  can  see  the  great  square 
tower  of  the  Produce  Exchange,  at  the  foot  of  Broadway. 
Upon  these  Treasury  steps  are  convened  public  meetings 
when  grave  subjects  stir  the  financial  centre  or  the  politi- 
cians desire  to  invoke  Wall  Street  aid  in  important  elections. 
Proceeding  farther  along  Wall  Street,  the  next  corner  is 
William  Street,  and  here  is  the  Custom-house,  with  its  long 
granite  colonnade,  where  the  Government  collects  the  larger 
part  of  its  revenues  from  imports.  Here  are  controlled  an 
army  of  placemen  who  make  a  powerful  "political  machine," 
and  more  than  one  President,  who  has  been  harassed  by  the 
intrigues  for  its  spoils,  has  described  this  Custom-house  as 
giving  him  more  anxiety  than  all  the  rest  of  the  country 
besides.  A  short  walk  down  William  Street,  past  the  Cus- 
tom-house and  across  Exchange  Place,  brings  one  to  a  low, 
broad  granite  building  of  two  stories,  with  heavy-columned 
portico,  having  over  the  centre  doorway  the  inscription, 
"  Chartered  1822."  This  is  the  "  Farmers'  Loan  and  Trust 
Company,"  with  a  million  dollars'  capital  and  an  enormous 


THE  BATTEEY.  19 

surplus.  Some  farmers  may  have  started  it,  but  they  don't 
have  much  to  do  with  it  now.  It  is  a  financial  institution 
of  wide  renown,  whose  shares  of  twenty-five  dollars'  par 
value  each  command  five  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and 
it  makes  40  per  cent,  annual  dividends.  This  prodigious 
success  as  a  money-maker  is  the  outcome  of  its  fidelity  in 
executing  trusts,  good  faith  being  a  factor  in  New  York. 

THE   BATTERY. 

Turning  westward  through  Exchange  Place,  and  passing 
the  offices  of  more  bankers  and  brokers,  we  are  soon  at 
Broadway  again,  and  see  the  palatial  brick  and  brown- 
stone  building  of  the  new  Consolidated  Stock  Exchange, 
the  rival  of  the  older  institution  on  Broad  Street.  Below 
this  Broadway  soon  comes  to  the  Bowling  Green,  a  trian- 
gular space  of  about  a  half  acre  having  a  small  oval  park 
in  the  centre.  This  green  ends  the  street,  which  divides 
into  two  smaller  ones,  Whitehall  on  the  one  side  and  State 
Street  on  the  other.  In  the  early  days  this  place  was  the 
court  end  of  the  town,  surrounded  by  the  homes  of  the 
proudest  Knickerbockers.  Here  in  the  Revolution  lived 
Cornwallis,  Howe,  and  Clinton.  Benedict  Arnold  occupied 
No.  5  Broadway,  and  Washington's  headquarters  was  in 
No.  1,  then  Captain  Kennedy's  house.  The  site  of  these 
on  the  west  side  of  Bowling  Green  is  now  occupied  by 
Cyrus  W.  Field's  great  Washington  Building,  an  immense 
structure  filled  with  offices,  which  rises  nearly  three  hun- 
dred feet  to  the  top  of  its  tower.  To  the  eastward  is  the 
broad  stretch  of  the  Produce  Exchange,  with  its  huge 
square  tower,  part  of  the  ground  it  stands  upon  having 
been  the  site  of  the  house  where  Robert  Fulton  lived  and 
died.  Talleyrand  once  lived  on  Bowling  Green,  and  the 
leaden  statue  of  King  George  III.,  which  was  there  at  the 
opening  of  the  Revolution,  was  melted  down  to  make  bul- 
lets for  the  Continental  soldiers,  so  that  it  was  facetiously 
said  at  the  time  that  "  King  George's  troops  will  j)robably 


) 


20  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

have  his  melted  Majesty  fired  at  them."  The  space  south 
of  the  green  was  the  site  of  the  old  Dutch  fort  guarding 
"  New  Amsterdam  "  which  afterward  became  Fort  George. 
Six  fine  residences  were  built  here,  which  are  now  the  favor- 
ite locality  of  the  ofiices  of  the  great  steamship  lines.  Be- 
yond, the  island  ends  in  the  Battery  Park,  over  which  the 
elevated  railways  come  from  both  sides  of  the  city,  joining 
at  the  point  of  the  island  in  one  terminal  station  at  the 
South  Ferry.  This  park  superseded  the  forts  after  the  war 
of  1812,  and  in  the  earlier  years  of  this  century  the  fashion- 
able people  took  their  airing  here.  But  they  long  ago  left 
it,  as  the  residential  section  moved  far  up  town.  It  is  a 
pleasant  place  and  well  kept,  and  into  the  spacious  rotunda 
of  its  old  Castle  Clinton  are  brought  the  immigrants — 
sometimes  thirty  thousand  in  a  single  week — and  its  occu- 
pants overflow  the  entire  neighborhood.  It  is  wonderful  to 
see  the  place  filled  with  men,  women,  and  children  of  all 
races,  who  bring  their  old-country  clothes  and  languages 
with  them,  and  reproduce  the  ancient  Babel  of  tongues  as 
they  ask  information,  change  their  money,  and  buy  railway- 
tickets  for  the  Far  West.  At  Whitehall  slip,  the  point  of 
the  island,  is  the  Government  barge-office.  This  pretty 
foliage-covered  park  at  the  Battery  is  an  attractive  spot, 
and  a  fitting  terminus  for  the  famous  island  of  Manhattan. 


III. 

A  SURVEY  OF  MANHATTAN  ISLAND. 

The  long  and  narrow  island  of  Manhattan,  upon  which 
New  York  is  built,  stretches  about  thirteen  miles,  while  it 
is  not  much  over  two  miles  broad  in  the  widest  part,  and 
sometimes  narrows  to  a  few  hundred  yards,  particularly  in 


A  SUKVEY  OF  MANHATTAN  ISLAND.  21 

the  northern  portion.  The  corporate  limits  of  the  city  are 
extended  also  over  the  mainland  to  the  north  and  east  of 
this  northern  portion,  so  that  while  the  island  area  is  about 
twenty-two  square  miles,  the  city  covers  altogether  forty- 
one  square  miles,  its  boundary  going  about  four  miles  east- 
ward from  the  Hudson  to  a  picturesque  little  stream  known 
as  Bronx  River,  which  separates  New  York  from  West- 
chester county.  The  Harlem  Kiver  and  the  winding  nar- 
row strait  of  the  Spuyten  Duyvel  separate  Manhattan  from 
the  mainland.  The  rapid  growth  of  the  metropolis  has 
expanded  it  beyond  the  limits  of  Manhattan  and  built 
populous  towns  on  the  opposite  shores  of  all  the  boundary 
rivers,  Brooklyn  and  Williamsburg  being  across  East  River 
on  Long  Island,  and  Jersey  City  and  its  kindred  towns  on 
the  western  bank  of  the  Hudson.  Various  islands  in  East 
River  also  are  utilized  for  the  city's  penal  and  charitable 
institutions.  The  capacious  harbor,  the  converging  rivers, 
and  the  numerous  adjacent  arms  of  the  sea  combine  all  the 
requisites  of  a  great  port,  and  they  could  hardly  have  been 
better  planned  if  human  hands  had  foshioned  them.  There 
is  a  vast  wharf-frontage,  accommodating  an  almost  limitless 
commerce  in  and  around  New  York  harbor,  for  it  has  over 
fifty  miles  of  shore-line  available  for  shipping.  This  has 
attracted  the  enormous  population,  there  being  nearly  as 
many  people  as  live  on  the  island  itself  housed  on  the  oppo- 
site shores  or  in  adjacent  towns,  who  daily  pour  into  New 
York  to  engage  in  its  business  activity.  The  southern  por- 
tion of  Manhattan  has  a  low  surface,  but  to  the  northward 
it  becomes  rough  and  rocky,  culminating  in  high  elevations 
with  intervals  along  the  Hudson,  rising  at  Washington 
Heights  to  two  hundred  and  thirty-eight  feet,  where  there 
is  a  grand  outlook.  Originally  there  were  ponds  and 
marshes  on  the  southern  part  of  the  island,  and  it  was  also 
considerably  widened  there  by  reclaiming  shallow  portions 
from  the  rivers.  This  long  and  narrow  construction  of 
New  York  puts  Broadway  longitudinally  in  the  centre  of 


22  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

the  city,  and  necessarily  throws  into  it  a  great  traffic. 
One  can  hardly  make  any  extended  movements  in  New 
York  Avithout  getting  into  Broadway.  Hence  that  street 
has  its  show  always  on  exhibition  of  the  restless  rush  of  life 
in  the  modern  Babylon,  and  has  become  the  most  famous 
highway  in  this  country.  Its  architecture  excites  admi- 
ration, and  its  perpetual  din  of  traffic  and  business,  with 
the  moving  crowds  and  jams  of  vehicles,  is  the  type  of 
New  York  activity.  This  wonderful  street  is  eighty  feet 
wide  between  the  buildings,  and  extends  for  five  miles 
from  the  Bowling  Green  to  Central  Park  at  Fifty-ninth 
Street,  and  from  its  upper  end,  beyond  this,  the  "  Grand 
Boulevard,"  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  wide,  w^ith  pretty 
little  parks  in  the  centre,  is  prolonged  as  a  favorite  drive  to 
the  northern  suburbs.  Broadway  in  its  course  diagonally 
crosses  Fifth,  Sixth,  and  Seventh  Avenues,  and  intersects 
Eighth  Avenue  at  the  Park  boundary.  Here  is  the 
"Merchant's  Gate,"  entering  Central  Park  from  Broad- 
way, the  opposite  entrance  from  Fifth  Avenue  being 
known  as  the  "  Scholar's  Gate,"  while  at  Sixth  and 
Seventh  Avenues  betw^een  are  respectively  the  "  Artist's 
Gate"  and  the  "Artisan's  Gate."  These  four  entrances 
admit  most  visitors  to  the  great  park,  but  it  is  doubtful  if 
they  classify  themselves  according  to  these  designations. 

A   STROLL   UP   BROADWAY. 

Let  us  take  a  leisurely  stroll  up  Broadway  from  Trinity 
Church  at  Wall  Street,  for  intelligent  pedestrianism  best 
displays  the  tow^n.  The  street  is  lined  with  huge  buildings 
— great  office-letting  structures  reared  skyward — and  among 
them  little,  narrow,  crooked  streets  come  in  to  pour  their 
traffic  into  the  main  stream,  which  carries  a  vast  surging 
mass  of  humanity.  At  Cedar  Street  is  the  enormous  Equi- 
table Life  building,  w^ith  the  Mutual  Life  building  on  Nas- 
sau Street  almost  behind  it,  probably  the  most  capacious  of 
all  these  aggregations  of  offices.    There  are  dozens  of  similar 


A  STROLL  UP  BROADWAY.  23 

structures,  whose  elevators  keep  constantly  moving.  The 
Western  Union  building  lifts  its  surmounting  tower  two 
hundred  and  thirty  feet  above  the  pavement.  The  crowded- 
in  New  Yorker,  despairing  of  lateral  expansion,  thus  seeks 
needed  relief  by  going  upward.  These  great  houses  have 
myriads  of  occupants,  and  just  above  them,  where  Fulton 
Street  stretches  across  the  island  from  river  to  river,  the  jam 
and  turmoil  from  conflicting  streams  of  traffic  show  the  full 
tide  of  human  life  as  developed  in  lower  Broadway.  Here 
is  the  office  of  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  long  edited  by 
William  Cullen  Bryant.  Above  is  the  white  marble  Park 
Bank,  and  just  beyond  is  the  triangular  City  Hall  Park, 
with  Park  Row  diagonally  entering  Broadway.  Standing 
at  this  corner,  one  gets  an  idea  of  the  rush  and  restlessness 
of  New  York.  Two  enormous  streams  of  traffic  pour  to- 
gether into  lower  Broadway,  and  the  policemen  in  vain  try 
to  effectually  regulate  the  crowds  of  people,  wagons,  and 
street-cars  that  get  jammed  together  in  horrible  confusion. 
Upon  the  left  hand  is  the  sombre  church  of  St.  Paul  with 
its  towering  spire,  and  upon  the  right  the  white  marble  build- 
ino;  of  the  New  York  Herald.  The  dark  and  the  white — 
the  quietness  of  the  one  and  the  airy  activity  of  the  other — 
are  in  sharp  contrast,  and  they  together  look  down  upon 
probably  the  worst  street-crossing  in  the  world. 

But  we  pass  this  terrible  corner  with  a  whole  skin,  and  in 
front  of  us  rises,  at  the  lower  end  of  the  Park,  the  magnif- 
icent Post-office,  which  cost  the  Government  seven  million 
dollars  to  build,  a  granite  structure  in  Doric  and  Renais- 
sance, with  a  splendid  dome  and  tower  that  are  .a  landmark 
for  miles  around.  The  City  Hall  Park  contains  the  seat  of 
the  New  York  City  government,  and  may  be  regarded  as 
the  political  and  business  centre  of  the  city.  Around  it 
and  in  the  many  streets  radiating  from  it  are  a  vast  labyrinth 
of  corporate  institutions  and  great  buildings  whose  occu- 
pants conduct  all  kinds  of  business.  This  is  the  region  of 
newspapers,   banks,  trusts,  insurance   companies,  railway- 


24  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

offices,  politicians,  lawyers,  exchanges,  etc.,  with  lunch- 
rooms and  restaurants  of  every  degree  liberally  distributed 
to  feed  or  stimulate  the  multitude  who  rush  into  lower  New 
York  every  morning  and  away  again  at  night.  The  famous 
hotel  of  a  past  generation,  the  Astor  House,  rich  in  histori- 
cal associations,  stands  on  the  opposite  side  of  Broadway 
from  the  Post-office,  its  severely  simple  front  fa9ade  occupy- 
ing a  broad  space.  Along  Park  Row  many  of  the  horse- 
car  lines  come  from  their  terminals,  adding  to  the  jam. 
Stretching  back  from  the  Herald  office  are  a  row  of  news- 
paper buildings  of  wide  renown — the  World,  News,  Times, 
Tribune,  and  Sun.  For  the  moment  the  Times  in  the  newest 
building  outtops  them  all,  and  the  diminutive  Sun  build- 
ing, a  structure  of  the  olden  time,  looks  as  if  it  had  been 
sat  down  upon  very  hard.  These  are  on  opposite  sides  of 
"  Printing-House  Square,"  where  Franklin's  statue  adorns 
the  locality,  around  which  a  perpetual  war  of  printer's  ink 
rages,  for  these  rival  newspapers  are  always  quarrelling 
about  something.  The  tall  and  narrow  Tribune  building 
has  its  clock-tower  reared  two  hundred  and  eighty-five  feet 
on  high,  while  beyond  there  is  a  huge  vacancy  from  which 
is  to  arise  the  new  office  of  the  New  York  World.  Park 
Row  runs  into  Chatham  Street,  over  which  the  Brooklyn 
bridge  terminal  comes  down,  with  elevated  and  surface  rail- 
roads in  ample  supply  all  about.  This  Chatham  Street  is 
the  location  of  cheap  shops  and  concert-halls,  and  is  pro- 
longed into  the  Bowery,  the  avenue  of  the  humbler  classes, 
lined  with  shops  and  saloons,  always  crowded,  and  having 
four  sets  of  street-cars  running  on  the  surface,  besides  being 
liberally  roofed  over  with  elevated  railroads  above.  All 
kinds  of  cars  have  unlimited  privileges  here,  and  there  is 
not  room  left  for  much  else. 

THE    CITY   HALL    PARK. 

This  City  Hall  Park,  thus  enclosed  by  Broadway,  Park 
Row,  and  Chatham  Street,  is  a  triangular  space  which  was 


THE  CITY  HALL  PARK.  25 

originally  a  sort  of  garden  around  the  City  Hall,  but  is  now 
well  occupied  by  large  buildings,  for  the  New  Court-house 
has  been  built  north  of  the  City  Hall  and  the  Post-office 
south  of  it,  with  IMail  Street  opened  between.  Chambers 
Street  bounds  the  Park  on  the  north,  and  upon  it  faces  the 
New  Court-house,  a  massive  Corinthian  building  of  white 
marble  which  was  a  dozen  years  in  progress  through  the 
thieving  of  the  notorious  "  Tweed  Ring,"  who  used  it  to 
extract  fifteen  million  dollars  from  the  city  treasury  on 
fraudulent  bills,  or  more  than  five  times  what  the  work 
actually  cost.  This  court-house,  and  the  Stewart  building 
on  the  north  side  of  Chambers  Street,  occupy  the  site  of 
an  old  fort  which,  in  the  days  of  the  Revolution,  was  the 
British  outpost  commanding  the  entrance  to  the  city  by  the 
"  Northern  "  or  "  Bloomingdale  "  road,  now  Broadway.  The 
court-house  is  substantially  constructed,  and  has  a  large  cen- 
tral rotunda,  around  which  are  the  courts,  with  the  county 
offices — the  Sheriff,  Surrogate,  Registrar,  County  Clerk, 
etc.  These  are  the  rich  political  plums  in  the  local  gov- 
ernment, and  consequently  the  rotunda,  corridors,  and 
stairways  are  usually  crowded  by  the  small-fry  "  states- 
men "  who  are  the  dependants  of  the  chieftains  holding 
these  fat  offices.  The  entrance  on  the  northern  front  is 
impressive — a  flight  of  broad  steps  flanked  by  massive 
marble  columns.  The  New  York  City  Hall  is  a  less  pre- 
tentious and  much  older  building,  constructed  in  the  Ital- 
ian style  of  white  marble,  with  brownstone  in  the  rear. 
Plere  is  the  office  of  the  Mayor,  and  also  the  meeting- 
place  of  that  highly-flavored  body — the  Board  of  Alder- 
men. It  has  a  central  rotunda  also,  and  the  usual  copious 
supply  of  small  politicians,  and  contains  the  "  Governor's 
Room,"  adorned  with  the  portraits  of  the  governors  of 
New  York  and  Revolutionary  heroes,  and  also  a  fine  paint- 
ing of  Columbus.  Here  are  treasured  Washington's  desk 
and  chair  which  he  used  when  first  President  of  the  United 
States ;  but,  unfortunately,  it  must  be  recorded  with  sorrow 


26  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

that  some  of  the  occupants  of  the  New  York  City  Hall 
have  not  imitated  that  illujjtrious  man's  example  to  any 
eminent  degree. 

THE   DRY-GOODS   DISTRICT. 

Upon  Broadway,  near  Chambers  Street  and  just  opposite 
the  northern  end  of  the  Park,  stands  a  noted  building.  It 
is  a  modest  brownstone  structure,  without  any  pretension, 
but  it  contains  the  most  famous  bank  in  New  York,  whose 
phenomenal  success  is  known  in  every  financial  community. 
This  is  the  "  Chemical  Bank,"  originally  started  as  a  chem- 
ical manufacturing  company  with  banking  privileges.  Its 
chemistry  seems  to  have  been  a  failure  that  was  soon  aban- 
doned, but  its  banking  talents  have  been  so  well  developed 
that  its  shares  of  one  hundred  dollars'  par  value  have  sold 
for  forty-two  hundred  dollars.  The  capital  of  this  bank  is 
only  three  hundred  thousand  dollars,  but  it  has  amassed  a 
surplus  that  is  nearly  twenty  times  its  capital,  and  in  its 
reserves  it  often  holds  ten  million  dollars  gold,  besides  being 
usually  the  strongest  bank  in  New  York  in  its  excess  of  re- 
serves. It  has  never  suspended  specie  payments,  and  its 
deposits  often  exceed  twenty-five  million  dollars.  Among 
its  largest  stockholders  are  said  to  be  three  New  York  ladies 
who  have  married  foreign  titles — the  duchess  of  Marlbor- 
ough (who  was  Miss  Pine,  and  afterward  Mrs.  Hamersley)  ; 
the  duchesse  de  Dino  (Miss  Sampson),  and  the  comtesse 
de  Trobriand  (Miss  Jones).  Across  Chambers  Street,  and 
occupying  the  entire  block  to  Reade  Street  above,  is  the 
large  white  Stewart  building,  where  Alexander  T.  Stewart 
made  the  most  of  his  fortune  in  the  dry  goods  trade — an 
edifice  now  converted  into  a  vast  caravansary  for  all  sorts 
of  tenants  conducting  every  kind  of  business.  This  build- 
ing is  the  outpost  of  what  is  known  as  the  "  dry-goods  dis- 
trict." From  the  City  Hall  Park  up  to  Broome  and  Grand 
Streets,  stretching  over  a  broad  belt  of  adjacent  blocks,  this 
region  deals  with  all  kinds  of  staple  products  of  the  mills 


THE  DKY-GOODS  DISTEICT.  27 

and  looms,  clothing,  and  similar  goods.  Here  are  located 
the  factors  and  agents  for  nearly  all  of  the  mills  in  this 
country  and  for  many  abroad,  and  the  annual  money  value 
of  the  trade  they  carry  on  is  estimated  at  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  to  one  thousand  millions  of  dollars.  Here  throbs 
the  pulse  of  the  dry-goods  trade  of  the  United  States,  weak- 
ening or  strengthening  as  poor  or  good  crops  give  the  agri- 
cultural community  a  surplus  to  expend  upon  dress.  Alex- 
ander T.  Stewart  once  said  that  if  every  woman  made  up 
her  mind  to  pass  a  single  season  without  a  new  bonnet,  it 
would  sufficiently  diminish  business  to  bankrupt  this  whole 
district.  From  its  centre  Leonard  Street  goes  off  eastward 
down  to  the  Tombs  prison,  standing  where  once  was  a 
swamp — a  sombre  gray  building  in  the  gloomy  Egyptian 
style,  which  is  unfortunately  always  full  of  criminals. 
Canal  Street  crosses  the  city  through  the  northern  portion 
of  the  dry-goods  district — a  broad  highway,  formerly  a 
watercourse  draining  the  swamp  across  Broadway  to  the 
Hudson  Eiver,  but  now  conducting  a  busy  and  valuable 
trade,  which  makes  its  intersection  with  Broadway  usually 
a  lively  place.  Several  large  hotels,  which  were  famous  in 
the  last  generation  before  the  newer  houses  farther  up  town 
eclipsed  them,  are  features  of  the  street  beyond.  Here  are 
the  St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  of  white  marble,  and  the  Metro- 
politan Hotel,  of  brownstone,  enclosing  the  well-known 
Niblo's  Theatre.  Beyond,  and  opposite  Bond  Street,  is  the 
lofty  cream-colored  marble  front  of  the  Grand  Central 
Hotel.  It  was  here  that  Edward  Stokes  shot  James  Fisk, 
a  tragedy  that  will  not  soon  be  forgotten. 


28  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

IV. 

BROADWAY   CHARACTERISTICS. 

In  the  leisurely  promenade  up  Broadway  we  have  reached 
the  locality  where  the  wholesale  dry-goods  trade  of  the  fa- 
mous street  gives  place  to  other  trades  and  also  to  the  retail- 
ers. In  the  neighborhood  of  Bond  Street  one  encounters 
the  booksellers.  This  street,  with  Lafayette  Place,  Astor 
Place,  and  the  adjacent  parts  of  Broadway,  is  the  home  of 
much  of  the  bookselling  trade  of  New  York.  In  Lafayette 
Place  is  the  substantial  brick  and  brownstone  building  of 
the  Astor  Library,  one  of  the  benefactions  of  the  Astor 
family  to  the  metropolis.  The  Mercantile  Library  is  a 
very  large  institution,  in  Astor  Place,  between  Broadway 
and  Lafayette  Place.  This  brick  building  was  originally 
Clinton  Hall,  and  in  the  streets  surrounding  it  occurred  the 
noted  "Macready  riots"  in  1849.  In  those  days  it  was 
the  "  Astor  Place  Opera-House  "  and  one  of  the  chief  thea- 
tres of  New  York.  Edwin  Forrest  and  Macready  had  had 
a  misunderstanding,  and  when  Macready  came  over  here 
Forrest's  friends  declared  he  should  not  be  allowed  to  play 
in  New  York.  Macready  arrived  in  1848,  and  appeared, 
without  molestation,  a  number  of  nights  in  October,  but 
the  next  spring,  when  his  farewell  engagement  was  an- 
nounced, serious  opposition  was  menaced.  Upon  Monday, 
May  7,  he  appeared  as  Macbeth,  but  there  was  so  much 
confusion  in  and  around  the  house  that  the  curtain  had  to 
be  rung  down  before  the  play  ended.  He  was  then  inclined 
to  cancel  the  engagement,  but  a  number  of  prominent  peo- 
ple requested  him  to  remain,  promising  protection,  and  he 
reappeared  on  the  following  Thursday.  The  thorough  pre- 
cautions taken  to  preserve  order  within  the  house  enabled 
him  to  satisfactorily  perform  his  part,  but  the  Forrest  fac- 
tion outside  the  theatre,  after  vainly  trying  to  secure  en- 
trance, attacked  the  building  with  stones.    The  police  being 


BROADWAY  CHARACTERISTICS.  29 

unable  to  control  them,  the  troops  were  called  out,  and, 
firing  several  volleys  of  musketry  along  Astor  Place,  they 
suppressed  the  riot  and  dispersed  the  mob,  but  some  sixty 
persons  were  killed  or  wounded.  The  excitement  at  the 
time  was  tremendous,  and  Macready,  declining  further 
invitations  to  act  in  iJ^Tew  York,  soon  after  went  home  to 
England. 

At  the  end  of  Astor  Place  stands  the  Cooper  Institute, 
occupying  an  entire  block — a  brownstone  building  with  a 
fine  front,  founded  and  endowed  by  Peter  Cooper  for  the 
free  education  of  both  men  and  women  in  science  and  art. 
Opposite  is  an  immense  red  building  also  occupying  an 
entire  block — the  "  Bible  House,"  the  home  of  the  Amer- 
ican Bible  Society,  where  the  Scrij)tures  are  printed  by  the 
million  in  all  languages  for  distribution  throughout  the 
world,  and  where  many  religious  societies  have  their  ofiices. 
Between  these  two  huge  buildings  the  view  is  of  the  Third 
Avenue  elevated  railway  beyond,  with  its  rushing  trains. 
Astor  Place  is  continued  diagonally  north-east  by  Stuyve- 
sant  Street,  originally  the  lane  that  led  up  to  old  Governor 
Peter  Stuyvesant's  country-house.  Alongside  this  street 
stands  St.  Mark's  Church,  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  mod- 
ern buildings  around  it,  and  here  several  of  his  descendants 
are  communicants.  Across  Second  Avenue  opposite  is  the 
Gothic  Baptist  Tabernacle  and  the  fine  building  of  the 
New  York  Historical  Society.  When  St.  Mark's  Church 
was  built  here  in  the  last  century  it  was  a  mile  out  of  town 
and  surrounded  by  country-houses.  The  quaint  little  Stuy- 
vesant  House  then  still  stood  perched  on  a  high  bank  near 
the  church,  and,  with  its  odd-looking  overhanging  upj^er 
story,  was  built  of  small  yellow  bricks  brought  out  from 
Holland.  The  whole  of  this  region  in  the  days  of  '*  New 
Amsterdam  "  was  Governor  Stuyvesant's  "  Bowerie  "  estate, 
and  to  it  he  retired  when  compelled  to  surrender  to  the 
English  in  1664.  The  road  out  to  the  "Bowerie"  has 
since  become   New   York's   broadest   highway,   the  well- 


30  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

known  Bowery.  In  this  secluded  spot  Stuyvesant  lived 
for  eighteen  years,  dying  in  1682  at  the  age  of  eighty,  just 
when  Penn  came  up  the  Delaware.  He  was  buried  in  a 
vault  on  the  site  of  St.  Mark's  Church,  where  a  chapel 
then  stood,  and  his  brown  gravestone  now  occupies  a  2:)lace 
in  the  church-wall.  He  was  "  Peter  the  Headstrong,"  the 
last  of  the  Dutch  governors,  energetic,  aristocratic,  and 
overbearing,  and  described  by  Irving  as  a  man  "  of  such 
immense  activity  and  decision  of  mind  that  he  never  sought 
nor  accepted  the  advice  of  others."  He  was  also  further 
described  as  a  "tough,  sturdy,  valiant,  weather-beaten, 
mettlesome,  obstinate,  leather-sided,  lion-hearted,  generous, 
spirited  old  governor." 

UNION   SQUARE. 

Eeturning  to  Broadway  and  renewing  the  northward 
walk,  "  Stewart's  up-town  store,"  which  was  his  great  retail 
mart,  is  passed,  the  huge  white  iron  building  stretching 
back  to  Fourth  Avenue.  Hither  came  many  Phihadel- 
phians  twenty  years  ago  on  shopping  expeditions,  before 
our  own  retail  merchants  had  learnt  their  business  as  thor- 
oughly as  now.  There  are  splendid  stores  around  it,  and 
Broadway  for  a  mile  above,  with  some  of  the  adjacent 
streets,  is  now  the  great  shopj^ing-region  of  New  York.  A 
short  distance  beyond  StCAvart's  is  Grace  CJiurch,  with  its 
rich  marble  fa9ade  and  beautiful  spire.  The  parsonage 
adjoins,  with  a  small  enclosure  in  front,  upon  which  tlie 
towering  stores  encroach  as  if  resenting  even  that  little 
space  reserved  from  the  grasp  of  trade.  Broadway  bends 
slightly  to  the  left,  and  then  at  Fourteenth  Street  circles 
around  Union  Square,  a  pretty  park  of  about  four  acres, 
oval  in  shape,  with  lawns  and  shrubbery,  and  adorned  by 
statues  of  Washington,  Lafayette,  and  Lincoln.  Tliis 
square  is  surrounded  by  grand  buildings  and  stores,  amoug 
the  chief  being  TifR^ny's  noted  jewelry  store,  where  fash- 
ionable New  York  spends  a  good  deal  of  money.     Four- 


MADISON  SQUAKE.  31 

teenth  Street  is  a  wide  avenue,  having  an  extensive  retail 
shopping-trade,  and  this  neighborhood  is  a  great  locality 
for  theatres.  Union  Square  being  a  veritable  "  Eialto  "  for 
the  actors.  To  the  eastward  of  Broadway,  on  Fourteenth 
Street,  is  the  Academy  of  Music,  a  plain,  red-brick  build- 
ing of  ample  proportions.  Just  beyond  is  "  Tammany 
Hall,"  headquarters  of  the  Democratic  "  bosses  "  and  "  sa- 
chems "  who  largely  rule  the  town — also  a  stone-faced  brick 
structure,  but  taller  and  much  more  pretentious,  and  sur- 
mounted by  a  statue  of  the  presiding  genius  of  the  "  Hall," 
the  Indian  warrior  St.  Tammany,  who  with  outstretched 
hand  beneficently  looks  down  upon  us.  Old  Tammany, 
who  has  thus  been  made  the  presiding  genius  of  the  pecu- 
liar politics  of  !New  York,  was  a  chief  of  the  Lenni  Le- 
napes  or  Delawares,  and  was  more  used  to  the  mild  and 
just  methods  of  William  Penn  and  his  Quaker  brethren 
than  to  the  schemes  of  plunder  and  trickery  over  which 
New  York  has  made  him  a  sort  of  patron  saint.  Across 
the  street,  and  possibly  as  a  warning  (though  little  heeded), 
the  pretty  little  Grace  Chapel  is  inserted  among  the  rows 
of  drinking-shops  and  concert-halls  with  which  this  section 
abounds. 

MADISON   SQUARE. 

Again  we  return  to  Broadway.  Sixteenth  Street  passes 
eastward  to  Stuyvesant  Square  with  its  fine  St.  George's 
Church.  Twentieth  Street,  also  to  the  east,  leads  off  to  the 
handsome  residences  of  Gramercy  Park,  where  Samuel  J. 
Tilden  lived,  and  where  is  located  that  princely  gift  which 
Edwin  Booth  has  recently  given  his  profession — the  "  Play- 
ers' Club."  Beyond,  in  Broadway,  rise  like  giants  three  of 
the  noted  stores  of  the  street — the  carpet  warehouse  of  W. 
&  J.  Sloane  and  the  drv-G:oods  stores  of  Arnold,  Constable 
&  Co.  and  Lord  &  Taylor.  Thus  passing  one  famous  es- 
tablishment after  another,  with  the  ceaseless  roar  of  the 
street-traffic  all  the  while  dinning  in  our  ears,  we  come  to 


32  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

Madison  Square.  Here  is  Twenty-third  Street,  a  wide 
avenue  crossing  the  town,  and  at  their  intersection  Broad- 
way also  diagonally  crosses  Fifth  Avenue.  This  junction 
of  famous  streets  has  laid  out  adjoining  it  an  open  square 
covering  about  six  acres,  with  attractive  lawns,  trees,  and 
footwalks.  It  is  surrounded  by  large  hotels  and  noted 
buildings,  and  the  light  stone  and  general  airiness  of  con- 
struction, combined  with  the  trees  and  grass  of  the  square 
and  the  crowds  moving  in  every  direction,  give  the  locality 
an  appearance  that  is  decidedly  Parisian.  Far  to  the  north- 
ward Fifth  Avenue  stretches  with  its  rows  of  brownstone 
residences,  w^hile  Broadway  in  both  directions  is  the  home 
of  business  and  is  a  constant  and  never-ending  kaleidoscope 
from  its  enormous  travel.  Both  are  wide  streets,  filled  from 
dawn  till  midnight  with  thousands  of  people  and  vehicles, 
the  brilliancy  of  the  electric  illumination  in  and  around 
the  square  making  the  night  almost  as  bright  as  day.  The 
yellow  horse-cars  move  rapidly  and  closely  together  along 
Broadway  upon  the  road  whose  franchise  was  got  by  Jacob 
Sharp's  bribery  of  the  New  York  "  boodle  "  Board  of  Alder- 
men, several  of  whom,  including  Sharp  himself,  have  paid 
the  penalty  of  their  knavery.  Yet  the  construction  of  this 
railway,  though  stoutly  resisted  for  many  years,  was  a  great 
relief  to  Broadway  and  a  convenience  for  all  New  York. 
The  people  could  not  now  do  without  it.  The  control  has 
passed  into  the  hands  of  a  Philadelphia  syndicate,  and  I 
understand  they  contemplate  putting  a  cable  motor  under 
the  street.  The  fact  that  the  ordinary  New  York  street- 
traffic  is  not  carried  in  vehicles  of  the  same  gauge  as  the 
railways  is  of  advantage,  as  it  distributes  them  over  the 
street,  instead  of  j)utting  all  on  the  street-rails,  as  in  Phila- 
delphia. This  enables  Broadway  to  carry  much  more  traf- 
fic than  any  of  our  ordinary  streets. 

Alongside  the  intersection  of  Broadway  and  Fifth  Avenue 
at  Madison  Square  is  the  monument  to  General  Worth,  a 
handsome  granite  shaft  erected  in  memory  of  that  hero  of 


MADISON  SQUAEE.  33 

the  Mexican  War.  The  plateau  whereon  it  stands  is  availed 
of  as  the  site  for  the  reviewing  stage  for  processions.  Hither 
comes  the  President  or  the  mayor  on  great  occasions,  and 
when  elaborate  political  or  other  displays  are  made  Mad- 
ison Square  is  an  attractive  place.  In  fact,  it  occupies  in 
New  York  much  the  position  of  the  Place  de  la  Concorde 
in  Paris  or  Trafalgar  Square  in  London.  It  is  the  great 
public  assembly-ground,  and  during  many  years  has  seen 
New  York's  greatest  outpourings.  Bronze  statues  of  Ad- 
miral Farragut  and  William  H.  Seward  adorn  the  square. 
At  its  north-west  corner  is  Delmonico's  famous  restaurant, 
whose  owner,  after  feeding  the  jeunesse  doree  of  Xew  York 
upon  the  choicest  viands  for  many  years,  lost  his  mind,  and 
in  a  fit  of  aberration  wandered  over  into  the  wilderness  in 
New  Jersey,  and,  becoming  lost  in  the  woods,  actually  died 
there  of  starvation.  The  house  still  holds  its  high  reputa- 
tion, and  is  the  great  place  for  balls  and  banquets.  Upon 
the  west  side  of  the  square  is  a  row  of  stately  hotels,  the 
Fifth  Avenue,  with  its  white  marble  front,  being  the  most 
imposing,  while  just  above  is  the  Hoflman  House,  noted  as 
containing  the  most  gorgeously  appointed  drinking-saloon 
of  New  York,  where  the  higiiest  art  in  rich  decorations, 
painting,  and  sculpture  is  invoked  by  its  proprietor  to 
attract  custom  to  its  bar.  Splendid  stores  and  residences, 
art-galleries,  hotels,  and  restaurants  are  in  abundance 
around  this  celebrated  square,  and  the  adjoining  streets 
abound  in  theatres,  churches,  and  popular  public  resorts. 
Upon  the  east  side  is  the  noted  Madison  Square  Garden. 
In  fact,  Madison  Square  is  the  social  and  fashionable  centre 
of  modern  New  York.  Above  this  famous  locality  Broad- 
way stretches  two  miles  to  Central  Park,  passing  many 
hotels  and  theatres,  and  also  several  of  the  very  tall 
"French  flats,"  buildings  that  have  been  devised  for 
residences  in  the  crowded  city,  where  the  scarcity  of  land 
surface  is  made  up  by  adopting  the  methods  of  the  Tower 
of  Babel  and  elevating  the  houses  toward  the  sky.     It  also 


34  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

passes  the  new  Metropolitan  Opera-House,  the  finest  place 
of  amusement  in  the  city,  which  the  present  generation  of 
wealth  and  fashion  built  to  eclipse  the  old  Academy  of 
Music  on  Fourteenth  Street  that  satisfied  their  fathers. 
But  it  is  a  profitless  investment  as  yet.  There  are  theatres 
and  concert-halls,  casinos  and  other  resorts,  almost  without 
number.  Beyond  the  Park,  Broadway  is  prolonged  as  the 
magnificent  "  Grand  Boulevard,"  and  thus  it  leads  to  the 
remote  northern  suburbs. 


V. 

FIFTH  AVENUE. 


They  tell  us  in  New  York  that  the  main  object  of  work- 
ing so  hard  to  get  rich  is  to  be  able  to  live  in  a  brownstone 
mansion  upon  Fifth  Avenue.  Here  reside  most  of  "  the 
select  four  hundred"  who  are  said  to  be  the  exclusive 
social-status  set  of  Gotham.  Their  street  is  a  grand  one,  a 
hundred  feet  wide,  extending  northward  almost  in  the  cen- 
tre of  Manhattan  Island.  Yet  it  had  a  humble  beginnino;, 
starting  from  the  original  "  Potter's  Field,"  where  for  many 
years  the  outcast  and  the  unknown  were  buried  and  over  a 
hundred  thousand  bodies  were  interred.  The  city  spread 
beyond  this  cemetery  when  it  was  determined  to  make  the 
place  a  park,  and  thus  was  formed  Washington  Square, 
covering  about  nine  acres  on  Fourth  Street,  a  short  dis- 
tance west  of  Broadway,  from  which  the  famous  street  is 
laid  out  for  six  miles  in  a  straight  line  northward  to  the 
Harlem  River.  For  three  miles  it  is  bordered  by  i)alatial 
homes,  and  then  for  over  two  miles  more  it  is  the  eastern 
boundary  of  Central  Park,  while  beyond  are  villas.  The 
street  gives  a  magnificent  display  of  the  best  residential 
and  church  architecture  of  New  York,  the  progress  north- 
ward into  the  newer  portions  showing  how  time  has  changed 


FAMOUS  CLUBS,   HOTELS,   AND  CHUECHES.        35 

the  styles.  At  the  southern  end  the  older  houses  are  gener- 
ally of  brick,  gradually  developing  into  brownstone  facings 
and  borders,  and  then  into  uniform  rows  of  most  elaborate 
brownstone  buildings,  with  imposing  porticos  reached  by 
high,  broad  flights  of  steps.  The  more  modern  structures, 
as  the  Park  is  apjjroached,  are  of  all  kinds  of  materials 
and  designs,  thus  breaking  the  monotony  of  the  rich  yet 
gloomy  brown.  In  several  places  the  overflow  of  business 
from  Broadway  has  invaded  lower  Fifth  Avenue  with 
stores,  but  the  two  miles  from  Madison  Square  to  Central 
Park  form  a  street  of  architectural  magnificence  which,  in 
its  special  way,  has  no  equal. 

FAMOUS   CLUBS,    HOTELS,    AND    CHURCHES. 

Attractive  residences  surround  ^Yashington  Square,  and 
upon  its  eastern  border  is  the  white  marble  Gothic  building 
of  the  University  of  the  City  of  New  York.  Adjoining  is 
a  fine  Methodist  church,  built  of  granite.  Proceeding  north- 
ward along  Fifth  Avenue,  the  busy  shopping-region  adjacent 
to  Fourteenth  Street  spreads  some  distance,  and  at  Fifteenth 
Street  is  a  noted  corner.  Here  is  the  splendid  brownstone 
home  of  the  aristocratic  Democrats — the  JManhattan  Club, 
where  the  "  swallow-tails  "  congregate,  as  the  other  wing, 
the  "short-hairs,"  do  at  Tammany  Hall.  Behind  this  club 
are  the  buildings  and  church  of  the  College  of  St.  Francis 
Xavier,  the  headquarters  of  the  Jesuits  in  North  America, 
and  not  far  away  is  the  spacious  New  York  Hospital.  The 
most  noted  literary  and  artistic  club  of  New  York — the  Cen- 
tury— is  on  Fifteenth  Street,  east  of  Fifth  Avenue.  Farther 
northward  a  short  distance  is  Chickering  Hall,  the  chief 
lecture-hall  of  the  city,  and  opposite,  at  the  corner  of 
Eighteenth  Street,  is  the  residence  of  August  Belmont, 
the  American  representative  of  the  Rothschilds.  Ivy  over- 
runs the  mansion,  and  behind  it  is  a  large  picture-gallery. 
At  Twenty-first  Street  is  the  wealthy  and  exclusive  Union 
Club,  with  the  Lotus  Club  in  a  more  modest  house  across 


36  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR. 

the  way.  As  Madison  Square  is  approached,  stores  again 
invade  tlie  avenue,  while  several  fine  hotels  surround  the 
square,  and  upon  leaving  it  at  Twenty-sixth  Street  the 
avenue  passes  between  the  Hotel  Brunswick  and  Del- 
monico's,  whose  great  brick  building  extends  to  Broadway. 
Adjoining  are  the  Albemarle  and  the  Victoria,  the  latter 
hotel  at  Twenty-seventh  Street  also  stretching  to  Broad- 
way. Far  to  the  northward  the  great  street  can  noAV  be 
seen  stretching  up  Murray  Hill,  with  its  rows  of  stately 
buildings,  interspersed  with  stores,  art-galleries,  and  decor- 
ative establishments,  myriads  of  carriages  rolling  over  the 
smooth  pavement,  and  with  crowds  upon  the  sidewalks. 
Parallel  to  Fifth  Avenue,  and  a  short  distance  east  of  it 
is  Madison  Avenue,  also  a  street  of  fashionable  residences, 
and  second  only  to  the  greater  highway  in  magnificence. 
We  pass  at  Twenty-ninth  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue  the 
plain  and  substantial  granite  Dutch  Keformed  church, 
while  at  some  distance  west  is  seen  the  giant  Gilsey  House, 
towering  high  on  Broadway.  To  the  eastward  of  Fifth 
Avenue,  also  on  Twenty-ninth  Street,  is  a  little  church 
that  has  attained  a  wide  reputation.  It  is  a  picturesque 
aggregation  of  low  brick  buildings  set  back  in  a  small 
enclosure  and  looking  like  a  quaint  mediseval  structure. 
To  this  church  a  pompous  rector,  when  asked  to  say  the 
last  prayers  over  the  dead  body  of  an  actor,  sent  his  sor- 
rowing friends,  saying  he  could  not  thus  pray  for  the  un- 
godly, but  they  might  be  willing  to  do  it  at  the  little  church 
round  the  corner.  This  attractive  "  Church  of  the  Trans- 
figuration "  performed  the  last  rites  in  presence  of  an  over- 
flowing congregation,  and  its  official  title  has  ever  since 
been  sunk  in  the  popular  one  of  "  the  Little  Church  Round 
the  Corner." 

THE    HOMES   OF   THE   ASTORS. 

Gradually  mounting  the  gentle  ascent  of  Murray  Hill, 
we  come  to  what  a  few  years  ago  was  the  centre  of  the 


THE  HOMES  OF  THE  ASTOKS.  37 

aristocratic  neighborhood  at  Thirty-fourth  Street,  on  the 
opposite  corner  of  which  are  represented  the  two  greatest 
fortunes  amassed  in  America  before  the  advent  of  the 
Vanderbilts.  Occupying  the  block  between  Thirty-third 
and  Thirty-fourth  Streets,  on  the  west  side  of  Fifth  Avenue, 
are  two  spacious  brick  houses  with  brownstone  facings,  and 
a  large  yard  between  enclosed  by  a  brick  wall.  These  are 
the  homes,  respectively,  of  John  Jacob  and  William  Astor, 
the  grandsons  of  John  Jacob  Astor,  who  accumulated  the 
largest  fortune  know^n  in  this  country  before  the  Civil  War. 
In  Thirty-third  Street,  near  by,  lives  a  great-grandson — 
John  Jacob's  only  son — William  Waldorf  Astor,  formerly 
minister  to  Rome.  The  Astor  estates  typify  the  unexam- 
pled early  growth  of  New  York  and  the  wealth  gained 
through  the  advancing  value  of  land  as  the  city  expanded. 
The  original  Astor  was  a  poor  German  peasant-boy  Avho 
came  from  the  village  of  Waldorf,  near  Heidelberg,  to 
London,  and  prior  to  1783  worked  there  for  his  brother 
making  musical  instruments.  In  that  year,  being  about 
twenty  years  old,  he  sailed  to  America  with  five  hundred 
dollars'  worth  of  instruments.  Upon  the  ship  he  met  a 
furrier,  who  suggested  that  he  should  trade  his  instruments 
for  American  furs.  This  he  did  in  New  York,  and,  hasten- 
ing back  to  London,  sold  the  furs  at  a  large  profit.  He 
returned  to  New  York  and  established  a  fur-trade,  making 
regular  shipments  to  England,  and  finally  built  ships  to 
aid  his  business  as  a  merchant.  He  prospered,  and  at  the 
beginning  of  this  century  was  worth  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  Then  he  began  buying  land  and  houses 
in  New  York,  built  many  buildings,  and  was  so  shrewd  in 
his  real-estate  investments  that  they  often  increased  a  hun- 
dredfold. He  was  liberal  and  charitable,  but  of  a  retiring 
disposition  in  later  life,  and  at  his  death,  in  1848,  his  estate, 
then  the  largest  in  the  country,  was  estimated  at  tAventy- 
five  million  dollars.  His  chief  public  benefaction  was  the 
gift  to  New  York  City  of  the  Astor  Library,  w^hich  he 


38  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

bequeathed  four  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  found,  and 
his  son,  William  B.  Astor,  supplemented  this  with  donations 
of  property  and  money ;  so  that,  besides  the  buildings,  this 
library  now  has  an  endowment  fund  of  about  one  million 
eijxht  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  contains  some  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  volumes:  it  is  maintained 
almost  exclusively  as  a  library  of  reference.  The  great 
Astor  estates,  now  represented  by  the  third  and  fourth 
generations,  are  estimated  as  aggregating  one  hundred  and 
sixty  million  dollars. 

THE   STEWART    PALACE. 

Upon  the  north-west  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Thirty- 
fourth  Street  is  the  splendid  white  marble  palace  built  by 
the  late  Alexander  T.  Stewart  when  at  the  height  of  his 
fame  as  the  leading  ]N^ew  York  merchant.  It  was  intended 
to  eclipse  anything  then  known  in  America,  and  upon  the 
building  and  its  decorations  three  million  dollars  were  ex- 
pended, so  that  this  house  outshone  all  other  Nev/  York 
dwellings  until  the  Vanderbilt  palaces  were  erected  fai'ther 
out  Fifth  Avenue.  Stewart's  fortune  was  an  evidence  of 
the  enormous  facilities  of  New  York  for  successful  trading, 
though  much  of  his  wealth  afterAvard  was  invested  in  large 
buildings  in  profitable  business  localities,  notably  the  great 
hotels  in  the  Broadway  "  dry-goods  district."  Like  Astor, 
Stewart  began  his  career  with  almost  nothing,  though  at  a 
somewhat  later  period.  He  was  an  Irishman,  born  at  Bel- 
fiist  in  1802,  who  studied  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and 
before  taking  his  degree  migrated  to  New  York  as  a  teach- 
er in  1818.  He  somehow  got  into  the  dry-goods  trade  in  a 
small  way  near  the  City  Hall  Park,  and  his  business  grew 
until  he  acquired  all  tlie  adjacent  buildings  and  put  up  the 
huge  store  at  Broadway  and  Chambers  Street  with  which 
his  name  is  still  associated,  and  afterward  established  the 
retail  branch  farther  up  town.  His  business  enlarged  in 
every  direction  until  it  became  the  greatest  in  this  country, 


THE  STEWAKT  PALACE.  39 

with  branches  in  the  leading  cities.  Stewart  owned  the 
factories  making  the  fabrics  he  sold,  and  was  also  an  exten- 
sive importer.  Kis  business  methods  were  unpopular, 
though  profitable,  and  involved  the  remorseless  crushing 
of  rivals,  so  that  he  had  few  friends  and  many  enemies. 
His  only  trusted  adviser.  Judge  Henry  Hilton,  lived  in  a 
modest  brownstone  house  on  Thirty -fourth  Street,  adjoining 
the  palace.  Yet  Stewart  \7as  charitable.  He  sent  a  ship' 
load  of  provisions  to  relieve  the  Irish  famine  of  1846,  and 
made  large  public  gifts  to  aid  suffering,  while  at  the  time 
of  his  death  he  was  building  on  Fourth  Avenue,  at  Thirty- 
second  Street,  an  enormous  structure  intended  as  a  "  Home 
for  Working  Girls,"  on  which  fifteen  hundred  thousand 
dollars  were  expended.  It  was  completed  and  opened  short- 
ly after  his  death,  yet  with  such  stringent  rules  regulating 
the  "  girls'  company  "  and  their  parrots  and  cats  that  a  re- 
bellion was  soon  fomented  among  the  intended  beneficiaries, 
and  it  had  to  be  closed.  A  shrewd  suspicion  has  always 
prevailed  that  the  difficulty  was  intentional,  for  the  Home, 
which  would  have  produced  no  revenue  as  a  charity,  was 
soon  afterward  reopened  as  a  hotel.  Stewart  had  scarcely 
moved  into  his  Fifth  Avenue  palace  when  he  died,  and  his 
body  was  put  temporarily  into  a  vault  awaiting  removal 
to  the  magnificent  mausoleum  being  prepared  for  it  at  Gar- 
den City,  Long  Island.  Then  the  country  was  horrified  l)y 
the  news  that  the  corpse  had  been  stolen  to  revenge  busi- 
ness tyranny.  Whether  it  was  recovered  has  never  been 
made  known.  The  childless  widow  lived  in  gloomy  grand- 
eur in  the  palace  until  her  death,  never  seeing  visitors,  and 
having  watchmen  pacing  the  sidewalk  at  all  hours.  The 
great  business  that  Stewart  organized  has  been  broken  up 
and  scattered,  his  enormous  fortune  is  being  dissipated  in 
litigation,  and,  as  he  left  no  direct  descendants,  the  estate 
is  rapidly  going  into  strangers'  hands. 


40  '  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 


BROWNSTONE   AND   ITS   RIVALS. 

This  empty  white  marble  Stewart  palace,  which  is  now 
for  sale,  was  the  first  serious  innovation  made  upon  the  rich 
brownstoue  fronts  of  Fifth  Avenue.  Thirty  years  ago  the 
possession  of  a  "  brownstone  front "  was  the  necessary  ad- 
junct of  New  York  social  standing.  The  material  came 
into  such  extensive  use  that  it  gave  a  distinctive  coloring  to 
Gotham.  Its  sombreness  and  the  general  uniformity  of 
architecture  have  made  most  of  the  New  York  residential 
streets  corridors  of  gloom.  For  years,  as  a  competent  local 
authority  has  described  it,  "  our  new  houses  and  blocks  were 
all  turned  out  from  the  same  moulds,  and  apparently  con- 
gealed from  the  same  coffee-colored  liquid."  To  break  the 
fashionable  monotony  required  some  moral  courage,  and  it 
was  regarded  as  a  startling  innovation  when  the  Stewart 
palace  was  designed  and  was  found  to  be  slowly  growing  of 
marble.  Afterward  the  brownstone  was  criticised  as  tend- 
ing to  scale  and  disintegrate  under  the  extremes  of  tem- 
perature to  which  it  is  exposed  in  this  climate.  The  builders 
have  since  made  large  inroads  with  other  materials,  thus 
giving  more  individuality  to  the  finer  buildings.  The  Con- 
necticut quarrymen,  who  once  had  such  a  bonanza  in  their 
brownstone,  are  now  said  to  be  feeling  the  change,  the  de- 
mand having  declined.  The  streets  adjacent  to  the  palace 
give  evidence  of  this  change.  Thirty-fourth  Street  is  a 
grand  highway,  and  has  its  uniform  rows  of  brownstone 
houses,  but  some  distance  west  of  Fifth  Avenue  is  the  In- 
stitution for  the  Blind,  its  extensive  white  marble  buildings 
being  surmounted  by  turrets  and  battlements.  Near  by,  on 
Thirty-fifth  Street,  is  the  spacious  graystone  State  Arsenal, 
the  military  headquarters  of  the  National  Guard.  To  the 
eastward,  after  crossing  Madison  Avenue,  Thirty-fourth 
Street  crosses  Fourth  Avenue,  here  widened  to  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  feet,  so  that  the  tunnel  which  takes  the  street- 
railways  up  to  the  Grand  Central  Station  at  Forty-second 


THE  VANDERBILTS.  41 

Street  can  go  under  Murray  Hill.  The  open  spaces  above 
this  tunnel,  giving  it  light  and  air,  are  surrounded  by  little 
parks,  making  this,  which  is  called  Park  Avenue,  one  of 
the  pleasant  places  of  New  York.  Standing  here,  eastward 
at  Thirty-second  Street  is  seen  the  enormous  pile  of  build- 
ings forming  Stewart's  Working  Girls'  Home,  constructed 
around  a  spacious  courtyard.  At  Thirty-fourth  Street 
corner  is  the  reddish-brown  Gothic  Unitarian  Church  of 
the  Messiah,  where  Kobert  Collyer  is  pastor.  The  Presby- 
terian Church  of  the  Covenant  is  a  Lombardo-Gothic  gray- 
stone  building  at  Thirty-fifth  Street.  To  the  northward, 
over  the  little  parks,  the  view  is  closed  by  the  louvre 
domes  of  the  Grand  Central  station  of  the  Vanderbilt 
railroads.  All  about,  in  the  newer  buildings,  are  seen  the 
architectural  inroads  made  uj)Oii  the  once  prevalent  brown- 
stone. 


VI. 

THE  VANDERBILTS. 


We  continue  the  walk  out  Fifth  Avenue  and  approach 
the  top  of  jMurray  Hill.  At  Thirty-seventh  Street  corner 
is  the  "  Old  Brick  Church  "  of  the  Presbyterians,  standing 
at  about  the  most  elevated  portion  of  the  hill,  and  built 
solid  and  substantial,  with  a  tall  brick  and  brownstone 
spire.  The  congregation  dates  from  1767.  At  No.  425 
Fifth  Avenue  is  the  double  brownstone  house  which  Aus- 
tin Corbin  last  winter  bought  from  James  Gordon  Bennett 
for  three  hundred  thousand  dollars.  This  price  gives  a 
guide  to  Fifth-Avenue  values,  and  Mr.  Corbin  says  it  was 
a  bargain.  This  was  the  home  of  both  the  elder  aud  the 
younger  Bennett,  the  former  having  founded  the  New  York 
Herald.  A  short  distance  beyond,  at  Thirty-ninth  Street,  is 
the  finest  club-house  in  New  York — an  elaborate  brick-and- 


42  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

brownstone  edifice,  witli  a  splendid  colonnade  over  the  en- 
trance, and  having  spacious  windows  that  disclose  the  lux- 
urious apartments  within.  This  is  the  Republican  Union 
League  Club,  presided  over  by  the  genial  Chauncey  M. 
Depew,  the  president  of  the  Vanderbilt  railroads.  Just 
above,  on  the  east  side  of  Fifth  Avenue,  is  the  historic 
Vanderbilt  house.  No.  459 — a  wide  dwelling  of  brown- 
stone,  evidently  built  some  time  ago,  and  having  alongside 
a  carriage  entrance  into  a  small  courtyard.  This  was  the 
original  home  of  the  Vanderbilts,  a^d  is  now  occupied  by  one 
of  the  old  commodore's  younger  grandsons,  Frederick.  The 
fortune  of  the  Vanderbilt  family,  the  greatest  yet  accumu- 
lated in  America,  represents  the  financially-expansive  fiicil- 
ities  of  modern  New  York  as  manipulated  by  the  machi- 
nery of  corporation  management  and  the  Stock  Exchange. 
It  has  been  piled  up  by  two  generations,  a  father  and  a  son, 
witliin  the  last  half  century,  and  is  now  held  by  the  grand- 
children. The  old  commodore,  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  who 
was  born  on  Staten  Island  in  179-i,  w^as  an  uneducated  boat- 
man who  traded  in  a  meagre  way  around  New  York  harbor, 
and  at  the  age  of  twenty-three  owned  a  few  small  vessels, 
and  is  said  to  have  then  estimated  his  wealth  at  nine  thou- 
sand dollars.  He  became  a  steamboat  captain  and  went  into 
the  transportation  business  between  New  York  and  Phila- 
delphia, afterward  widening  his  operations.  In  1848  he 
owned  most  of  the  profitable  steamboat  lines  leading  from 
New  York,  and  as  soon  as  the  California  fever  began  he 
started  ocetin  steamers  in  connection  with  the  transit  across 
the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  This  business  grew,  and  at  the 
height  of  his  steamship  career  the  commodore  owned  sixty- 
six  vessels,  the  finest  of  which,  the  steamer  Vanderbilt,  that 
had  cost  him  eight  hundred  thousand  dollars,  he  gave  the 
Government  for  a  war-vessel  during  the  Civil  War  to  chase 
the  rebel  privateers.  The  war  making  American  vessel- 
owning  in  the  foreign  trade  unprofitable,  he  determined 
to  abandon  it  and  devote  himself  to  railway  management, 


THE  CEOTON  RESERVOIR.  43 

having  already  bought  largely  of  railway  stocks.  At  that 
time  he  estimated  his  wealtli  at  forty  millions.  He  got  con- 
trol of  the  various  railroads  leading  east,  north,  and  west 
from  New  York,  buying  the  shares  at  low  figures,  and,  his 
excellent  methods  improving  their  earning  powers,  they 
advanced  largely  in  value.  The  greatest  of  these  roads  is 
the  Isew  York  Central  and  Hudson  River  Railroad. 

When  Commodore  Vanderbilt  died  his  estate  was  esti- 
mated at  seventy-five  million  dollars,  and  nearly  the  w^hole 
of  it  was  left  to  his  son  William  H.  Vanderbilt,  as  he  felt 
the  transcendent  importance  of  concentrating  wealth  when 
.in  railway  investments  to  get  the  full  advantage  of  its  power. 
By  its  own  earning  capacity,  aided  by  Stock-Exchange 
operations,  the  son  saw  this  colossal  fortune  still  further 
grow,  and  when  he  died  suddenly,  some  four  years  ago,  it 
had  reached  an  agsfreo-ate  estimated  at  two  hundred  million 
dollars.  At  one  time  William  H.  Vanderbilt  had  fifty 
million  dollars  invested  in  United  States  Fours,  and  it  is 
DO  wonder  that  the  comparatively  unpretentious  dwelling 
at  Fortieth  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue  became  too  cramped 
for  the  increasing  wealth  of  the  modern  Crossus,  so  that  he 
had  to  build  a  row  of  palaces  to  house  his  family  farther 
out  toward  Central  Park.  The  bulk  of  his  fortune  was 
bequeathed  to  his  two  eldest  sons,  while  other  sons  and 
daughters  were  also  liberally  provided  for.  The  aggregate 
Vanderbilt  fortunes  now  approximate  two  hundred  and 
ninety  million  dollars. 

THE    CROTON    RESERVOIR. 

Upon  the  w^est  side  of  Fifth  Avenue,  and  diagonally 
across  from  the  Vanderbilt  mansion,  is  the  old  Croton  dis- 
tributing reservoir  on  the  summit  of  Murray  Hill,  covering 
four  acres,  and  having  the  pretty  little  Bryant  Park  behind 
it,  extending  to  Sixth  Avenue.  This  ivy-covered  structure 
looks  much  like  the  Tombs  prison,  being  built  of  granite  in 
the  same  massive  and  sombre  Egyptian  style.     The  water 


44  AN  EASTERN  TOUR 

was  first  let  into  it  in  1842,  and  now  there  is  talk  of 
its  abandonment,  the  city  having -grown  far  beyond  its 
capabilities.  North  of  this  reservoir  Forty-second  Street 
stretches  across  the  city,  a  wide  highway,  passing  at  the  next 
block  the  Grand  Central  Station.  This  is  the  largest  rail- 
way-station of  New  York,  covering  over  five  acres  and  hav- 
ing cost  two  million  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
It  is  of  brick,  with  stone  and  iron  facings  and  ornamentation, 
surmounted  by  louvre  domes,  and  is  an  impressive  building. 
Its  vast  interior  halls  for  the  trains  is  under  a  semicircular 
roof  supported  by  arched  trusses.  Elevated  railroads  and 
horse-car  lines  from  "  down  town  "  run  into  this  great  sta- 
tion, the  latter  coming  up  through  the  Park  Avenue  tunnel. 
The  surrounding  region  is  animated,  abounding  with  res- 
taurants, hotels,  and  lodging-houses,  and  the  adjuncts  of  a 
railway  terminal,  including  the  prosperous  Lincoln  National 
Bank,  which  thrives  upon  the  Vanderbilt  patronage.  The 
outgoing  railways  are  laid  north  from  this  station  through 
tunnels  under  Fourth  Avenue  for  a  long  distance,  until  in 
the  suburbs  they  cross  the  Harlem  River  and  depart  north 
and  east.  This  is  the  only  railway  system  leading  directly 
from  New  York  City,  as  all  the  others  have  to  be  reached 
by  ferries  crossing  the  rivers.  Returning  to  Fifth  Avenue, 
at  Forty -second  Street  is  a  plain  and  modest  residence.  No. 
503,  which  is  the  city  home  of  Vice-President  Levi  P. 
Morton,  the  banker.  At  Forty-third  Street  the  Jews  have 
built  their  finest  American  synagogue,  the  "  Temple  Em- 
manuel," a  magnificent  specimen  of  Saracenic  architecture, 
with  the  interior  gorgeous  in  Oriental  decoration.  Creep- 
ing plants  tastefully  overrun  the  lower  parts  of  its  two  great 
towers.  At  Forty-fifth  Street  is  the  Universalist  "  Church 
of  the  Divine  Paternity,"  one  of  the  noblest  buildings  in 
New  York.  Just  above  is  the  Episcopal  "  Church  of  the 
Heavenly  Rest,"  a  curious-looking,  narrow-fronted,  reddish 
stone  building,  apparently  squeezed  between  the  adjoining 
houses,  but  expanding  to  large  proj)ortions  inside  the  block. 


THE  "LITTLE  WIZARD."  45 

It  really  looks  more  like  a  museum  than  a  church,  and  is 
surmounted  by  statues  of  brown  angels  vigorously  blowing 
trumpets  toward  the  various  points  of  the  compass.  Occupy- 
ing the  whole  of  the  next  block,  between  Forty-sixth  and 
Forty-seventh  streets,  is  the  grandest  hotel  of  upper  Fifth 
Avenue — the  Windsor,  tall  and  solid-looking,  with  a  com- 
fortable appearance  and  imposing  front.  The  lobbies 
within  the  entrance  are  spacious,  and  in  times  of  excite- 
ment in  the  evenings  they  are  filled  with  the  chief  men  of 
the  city,  this  being  the  great  resort  for  gossip  and  news 
and  stock  speculation  at  night. 

THE    "little   wizard." 

Opposite  the  side  of  the  Windsor  Hotel,  across  Forty- 
seventh  Street,  is  a  square-built  and  roomy  though  not 
large  house,  with  a  mansard  roof,  and  an  abundance  of 
foliage  plants  in  the  rear  windows,  and  having  in  front  an 
elaborate  portico,  under  which  a  grand  staircase,  flanked 
by  evergreens  and  garden  vases,  leads  up  to  the  hall-door. 
This  is  No.  579  Fifth  Avenue,  the  residence  of  the  most 
mysterious  and  probably  the  best-abused  person  in  the 
United  States — a  retiring  and  modest  man,  who  is  usually 
in  seclusion,  yet  manages  to  communicate  with  the  outer 
world  through  the  abundance  of  w^ires  enteriuo-  his  house. 
The  bulls  and  bears  of  Wall  Street  blame  upon  these 
radiating  wires  most  of  their  woes,  for  Jay  Gould  is  sup- 
posed to  sit  within  and  constantly  manipulate  them.  This 
"  Little  Wizard  "  has  been  the  greatest  speculative  power 
in  Xew  York  in  recent  years,  and  has  had  a  remarkable 
career,  being  alike  the  product,  and  to  a  large  extent  the 
producer,  of  modern  Wall-Street  methods.  He  was  a  poor 
orphan  and  clerk  in  a  country  store,  afterward  becoming  a 
surveyor  and  map-maker.  He  secured  an  interest  in  a 
Pennsylvania  tannery,  and  to  sell  its  leather  was  the  object 
of  his  earliest  visits  to  New  York.  Before  long  he  owned 
the  whole  tannery,  but  his  metropolitan  visits  taught  him 


4o  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

there  were  quicker  methods  of  making  money ;  so  he  sold 
out  and  removed,  being  at  first  too  mucli  afraid  of  New 
York  to  live  there,  and  he  made  his  home  in  New  Jersey. 
But  it  was  not  long  before  New  York  became  afraid  of 
him.  His  subsequent  career  is  well  known.  Nobody  ever 
made  such  ventures.  He  was  for  years  the  "  great  bear," 
wrecking,  pulling  down,  ruining — controlling  newspapers, 
courts,  legislatures,  and  being  even  accused  of  trying  to 
bribe  a  President.  Then,  as  he  became  an  extensive 
investor,  he  changed,  at  least  so  far  as  his  own  properties 
were  concerned,  and  in  his  later  operations  has  been  a 
"  bull."  His  fortune  is  the  largest  at  present  in  the  hands 
of  any  one  man  in  New  York,  being  mainly  in  railways 
and  telegraphs,  but  its  amount  is  unknown,  for  Jay  Gould 
is  a  sphinx,  talking,  yet  telling  nothing.  Unostentatious 
and  modest  to  an  extreme,  this  wonderful  speculator  moves 
quietly  in  his  work,  deeply  mourns  the  recent  loss  of  his 
wife,  and  is  training  up  his  sons  to  take  his  place.  He 
makes  display  only  in  his  grave,  having  expended  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in  building  a 
miniature  of  the  Pantheon  for  his  mausoleum  in  Wood- 
lawn  Cemetery,  in  the   northern  suburbs. 

I  have  written  of  the  old  Dutch  governor,  Peter  Minuit, 
who  bought  Manhattan  Island  from  the  Indians.  About 
the  time  he  made  that  shrewd  bargain  he  founded  for  his 
little  colony  in  1628  an  orthodox  Dutch  church.  After 
several  removals  this  church  now  exists  in  a  costly  brown- 
stone  structure  at  Fifth  Avenue  and  Forty-eighth  Street. 
Tliis  magnificent  edifice,  the  inscription  tells  us,  is  the 
"  Collegiate  Reformed  Protestant  Dutch  Church  of  the 
City  of  New  York,  organized  under  Peter  Minuit,  Direc- 
tor-General of  the  New  Netherlands,  in  1628,  chartered 
by  William,  king  of  England,  1696."  The  present  church 
was  built  in  1872.  Filling  the  entire  block  above,  between 
Fiftieth  and  Fifty-first  Streets,  is  the  great  Catholic  cathe- 
dral of  St.  Patrick,  a  magnificent  white  marble  structure 


THE  VANDEEBILT  PALACES.  47 

in  Decorated  Gothic,  covering  a  surface  of  tlii-ee  hundred 
and  thirty-two  by  one  hundred  and  seventy-four  feet.  The 
central  gable  of  the  front  rises  one  hundred  and  fifty-six 
feet,  and  the  unfinished  spires  on  either  side,  upon  which 
work  slowly  progresses,  are  expected  to  be  three  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  feet  high.  This  noble  church  presents  a 
striking  resemblance  to  the  great  cathedral  at  Cologne, 
particularly  in  the  interior,  where  the  softened  light 
unfolds  the  cloistered  arches,  the  high  nave,  rich  decora- 
tions, magnificent  windows  and  splendid  altars.  Behind 
the  cathedral  and  fronting  upon  iNladison  Avenue  is  the 
white  marble  residence  of  Archbishop  Corrigan,  and  in  an 
enclosure  fronting  Fifth  Avenue,  in  the  next  block  north- 
ward, is  the  Catholic  Orphan  Asylum — a  large  brick  struc- 
ture, with  much  of  its  front  made  of  a  continuous  series  of 
glass  windows.  Opposite  the  archbishop's  residence,  upon 
the  other  side  of  Madison  Avenue  and  surrounding  a  court- 
yard, are  the  extensive  buildings  of  Columbia  College,  the. 
old  King's  College  of  New  York,  which  was  founded  in 
1754  by  a  fund  started  from  the  proceeds  of  sundry  lot- 
teries, raising  in  all  seventeen  thousand  two  hundred  and 
fifteen  dollars.  This  is  now  a  very  wealthy  establishment, 
having  other  buildings  and  departments  in  various  parts  of 
the  city,  and  it  is  famous  both  as  a  school  of  law  and  of 
medicine. 

THE   VANDERBILT   PALACES. 

The  finest  portion  of  Fifth  Avenue  has  now  been  reached, 
and,  crossing  Fifty-first  Street,  we  get  into  the  modern  do- 
main of  the  Vanderbilts.  Diagonally  across  from  the  cathe- 
dral, upon  the  west  side  of  the  avenue,  are  two  elaborate 
brownstone  dwellings  with  ornamented  fronts  and  having  a 
connecting  covered  passage  containing  the  entrance-halls 
for  both.  They  occupy  the  block,  and  are  the  homes  of 
the  late  William  H.  Yanderbilt's  daughters,  being  only 
exceeded  in  magnificence  by  his  own  residence,  a  drabstone 


48  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

structure  of  castellated  architecture  and  highly  decorated, 
upon  the  upper  corner  of  Fifty-second  Street.  This  is  now 
the  house  of  his  eldest  son,  William  K.  Vanderbilt.  The 
second  son,  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  lives  at  the  corner  of 
Fifty-seventh  Street  in  the  fourth  Vanderbilt  palace,  an 
elaborate  brick  house  with  ornamental  stone  decorations. 
Tliese  palaces  were  constructed,  decorated,  and  furnished 
with  the  intention  of  outshining  any  other  dwellings  in 
New  York,  so  as  to  be  in  keeping  with  the  wealth  of  their 
owners  and  ornaments  for  the  city  where  it  wa-s  amassed. 
Fully  fifteen  millions  of  dollars  were  expended  upon  them. 
But,  unfortunately,  like  so  many  men  who  have  built  grand 
houses,  the  Croesus  who  designed  them  had  barely  moved  in 
when  he  died.  It  was  in  the  reception-parlor  of  his  new 
house  that  William  H.  Vanderbilt,  while  talking  to  Robert 
Garrett,  suddenly  fell  over  from  his  seat  almost  into  the 
latter's  arms,  and  instantly  expired.  Garrett  had  made  a 
social  call  after  a  long  estrangement,  owing  to  the  railway 
wars,  between  the  families,  Vanderbilt  being  inclined  to 
reconciliation.  The  death  was  unexpected,  and  knowledge 
of  it  was  concealed  until  the  Stock  Exchange  had  closed. 
That  night  the  New  York  speculators  had  busy  work  lay- 
ing plans  to  prevent  a  panic  next  day.  This  Vanderbilt 
mansion  is  the  grandest  in  New  York,  and  opposite  is  the 
tall  structure  of  the  elegant  Langham  Hotel,  while  on  the 
corner  above  is  St.  Thomas's  Episcopal  church  with  its 
beautiful  rose  windows.  Fortunes  have  been  expended 
upon  the  decoration  of  all  the  dwellings  in  this  costly  lo- 
cality. At  Fifty-seventh  Street  is  St.  Luke's  Hospital, 
managed  by  the  Episcopal  Church.  At  Fifty-fifth  Street 
is  Dr.  John  Hall's  Presbyterian  church,  of  brownstone,  the 
fortunate  pastor  being  said  to  preach  to  two  hundred  and 
fifty  million  dollars  every  Sunday  in  the  largest  and 
wealthiest  Presbyterian  church  in  the  world.  As  a  guide 
to  the  valuation  of  land  on  this  part  of  Fifth  Avenue,  I 
may  mention  that  twenty  years  ago  Robert  Bonner  of  the 


THE  NEW  YOEK  CENTKAL  PAKK.      49 

New  York  Ledger  bought  the  east  side  of  the  avenue,  be- 
tween Fifty-sixth  and  Fifty-seventh  Streets,  two  hundred 
feet  front  by  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  deep,  for 
two  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  dollars.  This  land 
is  now  valued  at  one  million  two  hundred  thousand  dollars 
without  buildings.  William  Waldorf  Astor  has  just  bought 
the  Fifty-sixth  Street  corner,  fifty  feet  front  by  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  feet  deep,  for  three  hundred  and  twenr 
ty-five  thousand  dollars,  and  C.  P.  Huntington  the  Fifty- 
seventh  Street  corner  for  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  each  intending  to  build  a  residence ;  and  the  cen- 
tral part  has  also  gone  to  the  Astor  family  for  four  hundred 
and'  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  Mr.  Astor  paid  at  the 
rate  of  forty-seven  dollars  per  square  foot,  and  Mr.  Bon- 
ner's sons,  who  were  the  recent  owners,  are  netting  nine 
hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars'  profit  on  their 
father's  landed  investment  of  two  hundred  and  seventy -five 
thousand  dollars  twenty  years  ago.  Along  all  the  cross- 
streets  are  displayed  elaborate  rows  of  brownstone  houses, 
and  as  Central  Park  is  approached  the  enormous  "  apart- 
ment-houses "  of  French  flats  that  face  it  rise  high  above 
us  in  various  directions.  The  park  is  at  Fifty-ninth  Street, 
and  its  dense  foliage  obliterates  much  of  the  view  beyond, 
but  Fifth  Avenue  stretches  far  northward  as  the  park 
boundary,  with  many  fine  buildings  upon  it,  including  the 
Lenox  Library  and  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  But 
the  travel  upon  the  avenue  there  is  sparse,  as  its  gay  equi- 
pages generally  pass  into  the  park  through  the  "  Scholar's 
Gate." 


VII. 

THE  NEW  YOKK  CENTEAL  PARK. 

The  pride  of  New  York  is  its  Central  Park,  the  pleas- 
ure-ground upon  which  has  been  lavished  all  that  art  and 
4 


50  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

money  could  do.     The  park  is  a  parailelograra  in  the  cen- 
tre of  Manhattan  Idand,  a  half  mile  wide  and  two  and  a 
half  miles  long,  occupying  eight  hundred  and  forty-three 
acres.     Much  of  this  space,  however,  is  taken  up  by  the 
Croton  water  reservoirs,  elevated  above  the  general  level, 
so  that  the  actual  park  surface  is  reduced  to  six  hundred 
and  eighty-three  acres,  or  about  one-fourth  the  size  of  Fair- 
mount  Park.     This  was  the  first  great  public  park  estab- 
lished in  this  country,  the  preparation  of  the  ground  hav- 
ing begun  in  1858.     The  work  opened  on  the  southern  por- 
tion, and  was  pushed  with  vigor,  as  many  as  four  thousand 
men  being  at  times  employed  to  make  it,  in  what  was  then 
a  most  unattractive  region.    The  original  surface  was  either 
marsh  or  rock,  rough  and  with  topography  generally  the 
reverse  of  that  needed  for  a  park.     The  locality  for  years 
had  been  the  depository  of  the  town  refuse,  a  desert  of  coal- 
ashes  and  rubbish,  the  temporary  home  of  colonies  of  squat- 
ters, who  built  their  shanties  wherever  they  thought  raking 
the  ash-heaps  might   yield  profit.      The  removal  of  this 
refuse  made  much  of  the  earlier  work,  for  it  had  to  be  ex- 
cavated to  the  depth  of  many  feet  before  the  natural  sur- 
face was  uncovered.     Enormous  labor  and  prodigious  out- 
lay overcame  the  difiiculties  ultimately,  and  then  the  popu- 
larity of  the  portions  of  the  park  that  were  first  opened 
was  so  great  that  plenty  of  money  was  afterward  granted 
and  the  park  acquired  much  celebrity.     The  long  and  nar- 
row enclosure  is  surrounded  by  a  wall,  but  as  this  interferes 
with  the  cross-town  traflSc,  at  about  each  half  mile  a  street 
is  carried  by  a  subway  under  the  park  roads  and  footwalks, 
thus  giving  free  passage  without  access  to  or  interference 
with  the  pleasure-grounds.     Skilful  engineering  and  land- 
scape gardening  have  made  the  most  of  the  unsightly  sur- 
face dealt  with,  and  attractive  features  have  been  produced 
out  of  glaring  defects.     Art,  in  fact,  had  to  do  everything, 
as  the  original  tract  bore  neither  lawns  nor  walks,  neither 
lake  nor  forest.    The  rocks  and  debris  had  to  be  excavated 


THE  NEW  YOEK  CENTRAL  PAEK.     51 

for  the  lakes,  trees  were  planted,  bridges  built,  and  roads 
laid  out.  To  many  observers  its  excessive  art  sometimes 
becomes  oppressive,  but  this  famous  pleasure-ground  now 
lacks  only  the  maturing  of  its  trees  to  become  one  of  the 
handsomest  parks  in  the  world.  Its  union  of  art  with 
nature  in  Italian  terraces,  many  bridges  of  quaint  design, 
placid  waters,  towers,  rustic  houses,  nooks  and  rambles, 
place  it  in  the  front  rank  among  American  parks. 

Entering  from  Fifth  Avenue  at  the  "  Scholar's  Gate," 
the  road  within  the  park  leads  by  a  gently  winding  course 
past  vista  views  and  pretty  lakes  to  the  Mall,  or  general 
promenade.  Here  on  pleasant  days  many  thousands  gather 
to  listen  to  the  music.  To  the  westward  are  broad  green 
surfaces,  including  a  spacious  ball-ground,  which  give  a 
tranquil  landscape.  Looking  northward  through  the 
avenue  of  elms  upon  the  Mall,  the  little  gray  stone  tower 
known  as  the  Observatory  closes  the  view  far  away  over 
another  pretty  lake.  At  the  end  of  the  Mall  the  terrace  is 
crossed  bordering  this  lake,  the  ground  sloping  to  its  edges. 
A  fountain  plashes  upon  one  side,  while  on  the  other  is  the 
concert-ground,  overlooked  by  the  Pergola,  a  shaded  gal- 
lery. Here  art  has  done  its  best  to  make  magnificence, 
where  gather  the  "  French  nurse-maids,"  usually  with  a 
Hibernian  accent  which  the  Gallic  cap  and  broad  white 
apron  cannot  disguise,  to  indulge  in  moderate  flirtations 
as  they  watch  the  babies.  Across  the  pretty  lake,  on  the 
Observatory  side,  is  the  Ramble,  a  rocky  forest-covered 
slope,  having  paths  winding  through  it,  and  on  the  highest 
point  a  massive  structure  called  the  Belvidere.  The  chil- 
dren have  play-grounds,  an  aviary,  and  m.enagerie,  and 
other  amusements  are  provided.  Beyond  this  enchanting 
region  the  road  winds  past  statues  and  ever-changing 
beauties  of  landscape  and  garden,  and  comes  out  in  a 
space  alongside  the  smaller  reservoir,  wdiere  stands  Cleo- 
patra's Needle,  set  up  near  the  noble  Museum  of  Art. 
Then  the  road  passes  alongside  the  larger  reservoir  with 


52  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

barely  enough  room  for  it  to  get  through  between  the  huge 
bank  enclosing  the  basin  and  Fifth  Avenue,  both,  however, 
being  admirably  masked.  In  the  northern  portion  the  park 
has  another  lake  and  extensive  meadows,  the  artistic  decora- 
tion here,  however,  being  less  elaborate.  Gradually  the 
winding  road  leads  to  the  western  side,  where  it  ascends 
Harlem  Heights  to  a  fine  lookout.  From  this  elevation 
far  to  the  north  can  be  seen  the  tall  arches  of  the  ""  High 
Bridge,"  which  brings  the  Croton  Aqueduct  over  the 
Harlem  River  into  the  city,  and  the  tower  alongside  that 
makes  the  reservoir  used  to  force  the  water  to  the  elevation 
of  the  highest  buildings.  The  river's  winding  banks  are 
steep  and  picturesquely  wooded,  and  can  be  traced  off 
toward  the  Hudson  River,  across  which  are  the  dim  and 
hazy  Palisades,  marking  the  New  Jersey  shore.  Just 
beyond  the  edge  of  the  park,  in  the  foreground,  an  ele- 
vated railway  runs  upon  its  high  trestle,  here  perched 
upon  taller  stilts  than  usual,  as  it  crosses  a  depression  in 
the  surface,  beyond  which  is  the  noted  German  picnic- 
ground,  the  Lion  Brewery.  Secluded  paths  and  em- 
bowered walks  are  all  about  for  the  solace  of  the  pedes- 
trian, while  a  flock  of  contented  sheep,  who  evidently  pay 
no  taxes,  browse  upon  the  meadows,  and  are  housed  at 
night  in  a  building  more  magnificent  than  many  upon 
Fifth  Avenue. 

THE  REGION  BEYOND  THE  PARK. 

One-Hundred-and-Tenth  Street  makes  the  northern 
boundary  of  Central  Park,  and  is  about  seven  and  a  half 
miles  from  the  Battery.  Beyond  this,  Manhattan  Island 
has  been  laid  out  with  broad  public  roads  known  as  the 
"  Boulevards,"  and  the  buildings  going  up  in  many  places 
are  making  it  a  thickly-inhabited  region.  The  fast  trotters 
of  the  young  bloods  of  New  York  speed  swiftly  upon  these 
superb  drives,  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  wide,  for  these  are 
their  racing-grounds.     This  is  also  a  land  of  the  squatters, 


THE  KEGION  BEYOND  THE  PAKK.      63 

their  shanties  placed  snugly  among  the  rocks.  Scarred 
gray  and  moss-covered  crags  thrust  up  their  heads  through 
all  this  region,  with  intervening  tracts  of  good  soil,  where 
are  little  market-gardens  and  hot-beds  growing  vegetables 
and  berries.  The  boulevard  on  which  we  are  driving  leads 
into  the  King's  Bridge  road,  and,  approaching  the  Harlem 
River,  across  it  are  seen  Morrisania  and  other  villages,  hazy 
hills  closing  the  distant  view.  We  go  down  into  the  wooded 
slopes  of  the  valley  and  across  the  river  by  that  little  old 
historic  bridge  whose  fame  is  intertwined  with  I^ew  York's 
early  history  and  whose  timbers  mark  the  political  division 
of  Xew  Y'ork  State.  Harrison  came  to  this  famous  cross- 
ing with  too  big  a  majority  at  the  last  election  for  New 
York  City  and  Long  Island  to  overcome  it.  The  Harlem 
Kiver  is  a  strait  whose  waters  in  crooked  windings  flow 
with  the  tide  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  gorge  that  has  the 
New  Y^ork  Central  Railroad  on  its  northern  border  seeking 
an  outlet  along  its  shore  to  the  Hudson  River.  Several 
bridges  are  thrown  across,  but  the  "  High  Bridge "  is  the 
chief,  its  tall  granite  piers  and  graceful  arches  showing  with 
singular  beauty  from  every  point  of  view,  whether  seen 
through  the  foliage  from  below  or  from  the  distant  hilltops. 
The  Spuyten  Duyvel  Creek  is  beyond,  the  strait  connect- 
ing the  Harlem  with  the  Hudson,  and  thus  making  Man- 
hattan an  island.  It  opens  out  upon  that  grand  river  with 
a  magnificent  view,  having  the  Palisades  for  a  distant  back- 
ground. The  Harlem  River,  winding  between  the  wooded 
slopes  below  the  "  High  Bridge,"  has  on  its  eastern  verge 
the  attractive  suburb  of  Morrisania.  Here  lived  Lewis 
]\Iorris,  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence, and  his  brother,  Gouverneur  Morris,  a  noted  old  New 
Yorker,  who  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  General  AVash- 
ington.  The  ancient  Morris  mansion  stands  near  the  river, 
not  far  away  from  the  bridge.  All  this  section  is  fast  being 
swallowed  up  by  the  spreading  streets  of  New  Y'ork,  of 
which  municipality  it  now  forms  a  part. 


54  AN   EASTERN   TOUR. 

THE    GREAT    AQUEDLX'T. 

The  Croton  Aqueduct,  thus  brought  to  the  city  over  the 
"  High  Bridge,"  well  describe4  as  "  a  structure  worthy  of 
the  Roman  empire,"  is  over  fbrty  miles  long  from  the  Cro- 
ton Eiver  to  the  distributing  reservoir  on  Murray  Hill.  It 
originally  cost  twelve  million  five  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars, but  improvements  since  have  absorbed  millions  more. 
The  Croton  comes  down  through  Westchester  county,  and 
falls  into  the  Hudson  some  twenty-five  miles  above  the 
city ;  its  head-waters  are  dammed  to  make  artificial  lakes, 
gathering  the  supply.  Excepting  the  great  storage  reser- 
voirs in  Central  Park,  the  works  were  built  between  1837 
and  1842,  and  then  surpassed  all  modern  constructions  of 
the  kind.  In  its  course  the  aqueduct  goes  through  more 
than  a  mile  of  tunnels  bored  in  gneiss  rock,  with  much  of 
the  open  cuttings  also  rock  work.  At  first,  the  Croton  was 
dammed  by  a  wall  forty  feet  high,  thus  making  Croton  Lake, 
covering  four  hundred  acres  and  holding  five  hundred  mil- 
lion gallons.  Afterward,  across  the  western  branch  of  the 
river,  a  dam  seven  hundred  feet  long  was  built,  flooding  three 
hundred  acres  and  making  storage  for  three  thousand  mil- 
lion gallons.  From  these  lakes,  for  thirty-three  miles  to  the 
Harlem  River,  the  aqueduct  is  built  of  brick  and  stone,  hav- 
ing a  cross-section  of  about  fifty-three  and  a  half  square  feet 
and  an  inclination  of  about  one  foot  to  the  mile,  or  thirty- 
four  feet  in  the  entire  distance.  There  are  one  hundred  and 
fifteen  million  gallons  flowing  through  daily,  moving  a  mile 
and  a  half  per  hour.  Three  huge  iron  pipes  carry  the  water 
across  the  "  High  Bridge,"  which  is  fourteen  hundred  feet 
long  and  rises  one  hundred  and  sixteen  feet  above  high- 
water  mark.  The  arches  are  eighty  feet  wide  and  their 
openings  one  hundred  feet  high,  to  give  free  passage  for 
masted  vessels.  There  are  eight  of  these  arches  in  the 
river-crossing,  while  seven  narrower  ones,  each  of  fifty 
feet  span,  are  on  tlie  banks.  Standing  at  the  New  York 
end  of  this  picturesque  bridge  is  the  solid-looking  tall  tower 


THE  GEEAT  AQUEDUCT.  55 

that  is  a  special  feature  in  all  the  views.  Its  surmountiDg 
tank  is  at  two  hundred  and  sixty-five  feet  elevation,  and  a 
portion  of  the  water  is  pumped  up  there  for  the  convenient 
supply  of  the  highest  parts  of  ^Manhattan  Island.  The 
greater  current,  however,  flows  on  to  the  reservoirs  in  Cen- 
tral Park,  which  cover  one  hundred  and  thirty-fi-ve  acres,  and 
have  one  thousand  two  hundred  million  gallons'  capacity, 
their  elevation  being  one  hundred  and  nineteen  feet.  Under- 
ground i^ipe-lines  thence  convey  water  to  the  smaller  Fifth 
Avenue  distributing  reservoir  on  Murray  Hill,  holding 
twenty  million  gallons.  Before  long  this  will  be  aban- 
doned and  the  ground  put  to  other  uses.  Some  thirty 
million  dollars  have  been  expended  upon  these  waterworks, 
the  large  storage  reservoirs  in  connection  with  the  Croton 
lakes  giving  ample  opportunity  for  subsidence,  so  that  the 
Croton  water  is  clear,  and  not  ornamented,  like  ours  at 
Philadelphia,  with  all  the  rainbovr  hues  of  the  soils  of  the 
Schuylkill  watershed.  New  York's  expansive  growth  has, 
however,  almost  got  beyond  the  capacity  even  of  these 
extensive  works,  so  that  new  enterprises  are  afoot.  At  the 
Quaker  Bridge  in  the  Croton  district  the  most  enormous 
reservoir  in  the  world  is  being  constructed,  intended  to 
hold  forty  thousand  million  gallons,  so  that  no  protracted 
drouth  can  imperil  the  supply.  About  twenty  million  dol- 
lars will  be  expended  upon  this  work,  and  the  Avater  will 
come  to  Harlem  River  by  a  new  aqueduct  twelve  feet  in 
diameter  tunnelled  for  twenty-seven  miles  through  the 
rocks,  and  then  carried  under  the  river  by  a  tunnel  at 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  depth.  At  One-Hun- 
dred-and-Thirty-fifth  Street  an  imposing  gate-house  is  to 
admit  the  new  water-supply  into  the  city  mains.  This 
aqueduct  is  to  cost  over  fifteen  million  dollars,  and  its 
work  through  political  peculations  has  recently  made 
many  unsavory  scandals.  These  works  are  the  most  enor- 
mous ever  projected,  and  in  a  few  years  are  expected  to 
give  a  supply  of  at  least  two  hundred  and  fifty  million  gal- 


56  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR 

Ions  daily — enough  for  the  metropolis  for  many  years  to 
come.  Thus  New  York  will  have  spent  altogether  over 
sixty-five  million  dollars  to  bring  in  an  adequate  water- 
supply. 

THE   ELEVATED   RAILWAYS. 

The  Central  Park  and  the  extensive  region  beyond  are 
readily  accessible  through  the  lines  of  the  elevated  rail- 
ways stretching  from  the  Battery  to  Harlem.  One  cannot 
stay  long  in  New  York  without  riding  upon  them.  These 
airy  constructions,  set  up  in  the  streets  upon  stilts,  have 
solved  the  rapid-transit  problem  for  the  elongated,  narrow 
city.  NoAvhere  have  methods  of  quick  transportation  been 
more  studied.  The  character  of  New  York  and  its  sur- 
roundings, and  the  migratory  habits  of  the  enormous 
crowds  rushing  in  from  all  points  in  the  morning  and  rush- 
ing out  again  at  night,  have  forced  it.  A  million  people 
cross  the  Hudson  and  East  Rivers  daily,  and  a  half  mil- 
lion more  move  "  down  town  "  in  the  morning,  and  "  up 
town "  again  at  night.  No  city  anywhere  has  so  many 
ferries  or  such  vast  capacity  in  the  huge  boats  crossing  the 
rivers,  or  such  gorgeous  floating  palaces  to  carry  its  pas- 
sengers from  its  wharves  to  other  cities.  Two  hundred 
thousand  people  daily  cross  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  reared 
high  above  East  River,  and  a  second  bridge  is  projected 
to  cross  at  Blackwell's  Island,  so  that  "  up  tow^n  "  may  also 
have  an  outlet.  To  secure  similar  advantages  the  Hudson 
River  is  being  tunnelled  and  a  high  suspension  bridge  is 
also  planned  across  it.  Almost  every  principal  street  has 
a  horse-car  line,  and  some,  like  the  Bowery,  two  or  three 
of  them.  Four  lines  of  elevated  railways  are  overtaxed 
with  traffic,  and  a  scheme  has  been  started  to  relieve  them 
by  tunnelling  Broadway,  which  has  the  late  lamented 
Jacob  Sharp's  most  lucrative  street-railway  upon  its  sur- 
face, coining  money  for  Philadelphia  owners.  As  the  city 
could  only  grow  at  its  distant  northern  end,  the  relief  for 


THE  EAST  KIVER.  57 

overcrowded  transportation  was  sought  cheaply  overhead 
that  London  only  got  at  great  cost  and  serious  incon- 
venience underground.  Yet  the  new  plan  was  hard  to 
introduce.  When  somebody  first  set  up  a  railway  on  posts 
along  Greenwich  Street  and  the  "  West  Side "  it  had  for 
years  a  sickly  existence,  people  being  afraid  to  ride  lest  it 
might  topple  over.  But  it  grew  in  favor,  and  when  it  paid 
there  came  a  rush  of  capital  for  investment  in  more  ele- 
vated railways,  which  were  speedily  built,  and  for  the 
present  have  solved  the  problem  of  rapid  transit  through- 
out the  great  length  of  New  York.  They  have  all  been 
gathered  into  the  "  Manhattan  Company,"  ruled  by  the 
"  Little  Wizard,"  Jay  Gould.  Their  trains,  high  up  in  the 
air,  rush  past  the  upper  windows  of  the  houses,  where  you 
can  see  the  inhabitants  eating  their  meals  or  doing  their 
work,  or,  possibly,  going  to  bed,  while  tlie  street-trafiic 
moves  slowly  and  with  obstruction  beneath.  Swiftly  and 
smoothly  gliding  through  and  over  the  great  city,  among 
the  houses  and  around  the  corners,  now  hemmed  by  tall 
buildings  within  a  narrow  street,  and  then  quickly  given  a 
broader  view  upon  a  wdde  avenue,  this  system  shows  many 
New  York  peculiarities.  It  is  unique,  and  to  most  visitors 
is  as  great  an  attraction  as  New  York  can  present,  giving 
more  enjoyment  at  less  cost  than  any  other  Gotham  enter- 
tainment. Its  convenience  is  also  a  charm,  and  the 
admirable  system  could  be  copied  with  advantage  wher- 
ever rapid  transit  has  become  a  necessity. 


VIIL 

THE  EAST  EIVER. 


The  eastern  boundary  of  Manhattan  Island  is  made  by 
the  Harlem  and  East  liivers.     The  former  flows  into  the 


58  AN  EASTEEN  TOUE. 

latter,  dividing  Manhattan  from  Ward's  Island,  that  with 
Randall's  Island  to  the  north  and  Blackwell's  Island  to  the 
south  forms  the  group  of  "  East  River  islands  "  upon  which 
are  the  penal  and  charitable  institutions  of  the  great  city. 
The  "  Commissioners  of  Charities  and  Correction "  take 
charge  annually  of  a  large  population,  sometimes  reach- 
ing three  hundred  thousand.  The  chief  buildings  are  on 
Blackwell's  Island,  the  long  and  narrow  strip  stretching 
nearly  two  miles  in  the  centre  of  East  River  off  the  upper 
city  piers,  and  being  barely  more  than  two  hundred  yards 
wide.  Upon  its  one  hundred  and  twenty  acres  of  surface 
are  the  penitentiary,  almshouses,  workhouses,  asylums,  and 
hospitals,  the  spacious  buildings  being  of  granite  quarried 
there  by  the  convicts.  Over  on  the  city  side  is  Bellevue 
Hospital  with  extensive  buildings,  also  in  charge  of  the 
commission,  and  containing  the  Morgue  and  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  ambulance  corps.  In  cases  of  vagrancy  and 
minor  offences  the  punishment  is  to  be  "  sent  to  the  Island." 
There  are  insane  and  inebriate  asylums  upon  Ward's  Island, 
and  also  a  Soldiers'  Home.  Randall's  Island  has  the  insti- 
tutions for  children  and  idiots,  while  upon  Hart's  Island, 
over  in  Long  Island  Sound,  are  the  pauper  cemetery  and 
industrial  schools.  The  building  and  grounds  are  all  upon 
the  most  elaborate  scale,  and  it  costs  about  two  million  dol- 
lars annually  for  their  maintenance.  The  steamboat  ride 
along  the  river,  with  these  extensive  establishments  and 
their  attractive,  well-kept  grounds  passing  in  full  review,  is 
one  of  the  most  charming  suburban  excursions. 

To  the  southward  of  Ward's  Island  the  shore  of  Long 
Island  is  thrust  out  in  a  way  that  curves  and  contracts  the 
East  River  passage.  Just  here,  below  where  the  Harlem 
joins  the  East  River,  the  latter  turns  eastward,  and,  flow^- 
ing  around  the  other  side  of  Ward's  Island,  goes  through 
the  famous  Hell  Gate  to  reach  Long  Island  Sound.  For- 
merly, this  was  a  most  dangerous  pass,  through  which  the 
swift  tidal  current  boiled  and  eddied.     Hallett's  Point,  jut- 


THE  EAST  RIVER.  59 

tiilg  out  from  Long  Island,  narrowed  the  channel,  and  Pot 
Rock,  Flood  Rock,  the  Gridiron,  and  other  reefs  obstructed 
it,  making  navigation  perilous.  Over  thirty  years  ago 
desultory  operations  began  for  the  improvement  of  this 
channel,  but  a  comprehensive  plan  was  not  projected  until 
1866,  when  General  Newton  took  charge  of  the  work.  His 
first  task  was  the  removal  of  the  reef  at  Hallett's  Point, 
where  a  mass  of  rock  projected  about  three  hundred  feet 
into  the  stream  and  threw  the  tidal  current  coming  in  from 
the  sound  against  an  opposing  rock  called  the  Gridiron. 
General  Newton  sunk  a  shaft  upon  the  point,  and  then 
excavated  the  inland  side,  so  that  it  made  a  perpendicular 
wall,  wdiich  Y/as  curved  around  and  designed  for  the  future 
edge  of  the  river.  From  the  shaft  tunnels  wer^  bored  into 
the  rock  under  the  river  in  radiating  directions,  and  these 
were  connected  by  concentric  galleries.  The  design  was  to 
remove  as  much  rock  as  possible  without  letting  the  water 
in  from  overhead,  and  then  to  blow  up  the  rocky  roof  and 
supporting  columns,  afterward  removing  the  fragments  at 
leisure.  The  work  began  in  1869,  the  shaft  being  sunk 
thirty-two  feet  beloAV  mean  low  water,  and  the  tunnels 
drilled  out  under  the  river  throuo-li  a  toujih  hornblende 
gneiss.  In  1876  the  task  was  finished,  and  thousands  of 
separate  blasts  had  been  placed  in  the  roof  and  supporting 
columns  ready  for  the  final  explosion  on  Sunday,  Septem- 
ber 24.  There  was  much  trepidation  shown  in  New  York, 
many  people  leaving  the  city,  while  everywhere  the  keenest 
interest  w^as  shown  in  the  result,  this  being  the  greatest  arti- 
ficial explosion  ever  attempted.  It  was  entirely  success- 
ful, being  dislodged  by  General  Newton's  little  child,  who 
touched  the  electric  key ;  and  the  calculation  had  been  so 
accurately  made  that  the  great  reef  was  pulverized  and  the 
fragments  fell  into  the  spaces  excavated  beneath  without 
causing  more  than  a  slight  tremor  in  the  adjacent  region. 
By  a  similar  system  and  more  extensive  work  Flood  Rock 
was  afterward  removed  from  mid-channel,  the  second  great 


60  AN  EASTERN   TOUR. 

blast,  reducing  it  to  fragments,  being  discharged  in  Octo- 
ber, 1885.  The  current  still  flows  swiftly  through  Hell 
Gate,  but  the  terrors  of  the  passage  are  gone. 

THE    BROOKLYN    BRIDGE. 

East  River  below  the  islands  is  the  locality  of  the  great 
foreign  shipping-trade  of  the  metropolis,  the  wharves  and 
docks  of  New  York  and  Brooklyn  on  either  hand  being 
filled  with  the  ships  of  all  nations  that  come  from  the  most 
remote  quarters  of  the  globe.  China  and  Japan,  the  Indies, 
Australia,  and  the  Pacific,  all  send  their  products  to  fill  tlie 
storehouses  everywhere  bordering  the  lines  of  piers  and  the 
extensive  basins  on  the  Brooklyn  side.  High  above  them 
rises  the  huge  East  River  bridge,  the  tie  that  binds  the 
twin  municipalities.  Its  massive  piers  are  among  the  tall- 
est structures  about  New  York,  their  tops  being  elevated 
two  hundred  and  sixty-eight  feet  above  the  water.  They 
stand  upon  caissons  sunk  into  the  rocky  bed  of  the  stream, 
which  is  forty-five  feet  below  the  surface  on  the  Brooklyn 
side  and  ninety  feet  below  on  the  New  York  side.  A  sec- 
tion of  these  gigantic  piers  at  the  water-line  covers  a  sur- 
face one  hundred  and  thirty-four  feet  long  by  fifty  feet 
broad.  Their  toAvers  carry  four  sixteen-inch  wire  cables 
that  sustain  the  bridge,  which  is  built  eighty  feet  wide,  so 
as  to  give  ample  passageways  for  two  car-lines,  with  wagon- 
roads  and  footways.  The  bridge  is  entirely  of  iron  and 
steel,  and  the  cables  are  made  of  galvanized  steel  wires,  the 
floor  of  the  bridge  at  the  centre  of  the  river  being  raised 
one  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet  above  the  water.  Between 
the  piers  the  distance  is  about  sixteen  hundred  feet,  while 
the  entire  length  of  the  bridge  between  the  anchorages  of 
the  cables  is  three  thousand  four  hundred  and  seventy -five 
feet.  These  anchorages  are  enormous  masses,  each  con- 
taining about  thirty-five  thousand  cubic  yards  of  solid 
masonry.  The  roadway  that  approaches  the  bridge  on  the 
New  York  side  rises  from  Chatham  Street,  opposite  the 


THE  VIE^V  FEOM  THE  BKIDGE.  61 

City  Hall  Park,  while  in  Brooklyn  it  comes  down  upon 
Fulton  Street  at  some  distance  from  the  river,  so  that  the 
whole  length  of  the  bridge  and  its  elaborate  approaches  is 
considerably  over  a  mile.  It  was  thirteen  years  in  build- 
ing, having  been  opened  for  traffic  in  May,  1885,  with 
imposing  ceremonies  in  which  both  cities  joined.  The  pro- 
jector of  this  famous  bridge  was  the  late  John  A.  Roebling, 
and  its  builder  his  son,  Washington  A.  Roebling,  who  caught 
the  dreaded  "  caisson  disease "  while  superintending  the 
earlier  work  under  water.  For  years  afterward,  an  invalid, 
he  watched  the  progress  of  the  later  work  from  his  chamber- 
window  on  Brooklyn  Heights.  There  were  fourteen  thou- 
sand three  hundred  and  sixty-one  miles  of  wire  made  to 
put  into  the  huge  cables  of  the  bridge,  and  their  weight 
is  nearly  four  thousand  tons.  New  York  and  Brooklyn 
shared  the  cost  of  this  enterprise,  which  was  about  fourteen 
million  dollars,  and  its  completion,  by  making  Brooklyn 
free  from  the  risks  of  East-River  ferry  transportation,  has 
given  that  city  an  impetus  which  has  been  increasing  its 
population  at  a  greater  rate  than  any  other  Atlantic  coast 
city. 

THE   VIEW    FROM   THE   BRIDGE. 

We  will  cross  this  famous  bridge  and  enjoy  the  superb 
view  from  its  central  elevation,  which  is  among  the  finest 
that  can  be  got  in  New  York.  Its  broad  roadways  rise  by 
an  easy  gradient  from  the  eastern  border  of  the  New  York 
City  Hall  Park  toward  the  middle  of  East  River.  On  the 
outer  side  of  the  bridge  are  the  wagon-roads,  while  between 
is  the  promenade  for  foot-passengers.  Between  each  wagon- 
road  and  this  footwalk  a  railroad-track  is  laid,  upon  vrhich 
passenger-cars  are  run  by  an  endless  cable,  hauling  them 
rapidly  over  the  bridge  in  trains  of  three  or  four  cars,  thus 
greatly  facilitating  the  crossing,  there  being  capacity  to 
carry  eight  to  ten  thousand  people  each  way  every  hour. 
The  tolls  are  three  cents  to  ride  over  and  one  cent  to  walk, 


62  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

the  latter  being  preferable  for  the  stranger,  as  the  central 
footway  is  raised  above  the  outer  roads,  so  that  the  noble 
view  from  tlie  bridge  is  completely  unobstructed.  Many 
pedestrians  cross  on  fair  days,  and  all  kinds  of  vehicles  pass 
and  repass  in  almost  unbroken  procession.  As  the  ascent 
rises  the  grand  panorama  gradually  develops  as  the  house- 
tops sink  below  you,  until  at  the  centre  of  the  bridge  the 
view  spreads  out  in  ail  its  unrivalled  glories. 

Lookino;  northward,  the  East  River  is  seen  comina:  down 
around  the  sharp  bend  of  Corlaer's  Hook  on  the  New  York 
side,  opposite  which  is  the  deep  indentation  of  Wallabout 
Bay  on  the  Brooklyn  shore,  the  locality  where  its  earliest 
settlement  was  made,  and  now  occupied  by  the  largest 
navyyard  the  United  States  possesses.  This  yard  includes 
a  total  area  of  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres,  and  has 
over  a  mile  of  wharf  frontage.  Here  is  the  extensive  "  Cob 
Dock,"  where  the  naval  vessels  are  outfitted,  and  where  last 
December  the  grim  war-ships  that  were  going  out  to  scare 
Hayti  had  to  lie  several  hours  in  the  mud  before  departure, 
until  the  tide  rose  sufficiently  to  release  them  and  Admiral 
Luce  received  his  clothes  from  Newport.  The  navyyard 
proper  is  an  enclosure  of  forty-five  acres,  and  has  a  fine 
granite  dry-dock.  The  Marine  Hospital  is  on  the  opposite 
side  of  Wallabout. 

Both  shores  of  the  East  River  are  fringed  with  piers 
that  are  crowded  with  vessels  of  all  kinds,  and  behind 
them  are  vast  aggregations  of  houses  on  either  hand,  with 
myriads  of  craft  in  front  moving  upon  the  water.  The 
rattle  of  the  railway-cables  hauling  the  cars  over  and 
keeping  up  a  merry  jingling  across  their  pulleys,  and  the 
gentle  vibration  of  the  bridge  itself  caused  by  the  passing 
traffic,  combine  with  the  busy  hum  of  the  two  great  cities 
and  the  shrill  whistles  of  the  vessels  below  manoeuvring  in 
the  crowded  cliannel  to  add  to  the  life  of  the  scene. 

Looking  southward,  the  narrow  waterway  flows  off  from 
beneath  us  into  the  broader  Hudson  River,  with  Governor's 


THE  VIEW  Fr.OM  THE  BKIDGE.  63 

Island  and  its  fort  and  round  Castle  William  spread  almost 
across  the  mouth  of  the  stream.     Red  Hook  Point  juts  out 
from  the  Brooklyn  shore  toward  this  island,  while  far  away 
to  the  right  is  seen  the  colossal  French  goddess  holding  up 
her  liberty  torch  upon  Bedloe's  Island.      Beyond   is   the 
broad  harbor  of  the  Upper  Bay,  with  many  vessels  moving 
and  anchored,  spreading  out  for  miles  to  the  blue  hills  of 
Staten  Island,  that  make  an  ajDpropriate  background.     The 
storehouses  and  piers  accommodating  the  chief  part  of  the 
foreign  commerce  of  New  York  are  on  both  sides  of  the 
East  Kiver,  for  to  this  region  come  most  of  the  sailing  ships 
from  distant  countries.     Here  also  is  the  headquarters  of 
the  grain-trade  brought  down  the  Hudson  in  Erie  Canal 
baro;es,  and  then  sent   in  lighters  all  about   the  harbor. 
Over  by  Red  Hook,  on  the  lefc-hand  side,  is  the  great  At- 
lantic Dock,  where  there  is  an  enclosure  of  fifty  acres  that 
can  accommodate  five  hundred  vessels  and  has  more  than 
two  miles  of  wharfage,  with  rows  of  substantial  brick  and 
granite  storehouses.     It  fronts  for  a  half  mile  on  the  But- 
termilk Channel,  having  Governor's  Island  in  the  fore- 
ground.    Beyond  it,  around  Red  Hook,  in  Gowanus  Bay, 
are  the  more  extensive  Erie  and  Brooklyn  basins,  covering 
a  hundred  acres.     In  these  localities  are  accommodated  the 
heavy  freight — coal,  iron,  lumber,  corn,  sugar,  etc. — and 
over  one  hundred  million  dollars'  worth  of  goods  of  vari- 
ous kinds  are  often  in  the  stores.     This  portion  of  Brook- 
lyn is  always  a  busy  place,  w^hile  behind  it  rises  the  aristo- 
cratic locality  of  the  "  Brooklyn  Heights,"  displaying  rows 
of  fine  dwellings  crowned  by  church-steeples  and  spires, 
and  having  Gowanus  Heights  and  the  foliage  and  tombs 
of  Prospect  Park  and  Greenwood  Cemetery  far  away  in  the 
distance.     Turning  from  this  bewitching  scene  again  to  the 
right-hand  side,  behind  the  vessels  and  piers  and  storehouses 
is  the  compact  city  of  New  York,  the  tall  buildings  and 
towers  of  lower  Broadway  rising  up  in  the  background, 
with  the  square  tower  of  the  Produce  Exchange  marking 


64  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

its  southern  extremity,  beyond  which  is  the  distant  hazy 
land  of  New  Jersey.  Little  puffing,  straining  tugs  draw 
huge  tall-masted  ships  under  the  bridge  beneath  our  feet, 
and  the  crowded  boats  upon  the  Fulton  ferry,  just  below 
us,  move,  crab-like,  sideways,  across  the  river  as  they  are 
swung  by  the  swift-flowing  tide.  The  wind  freshly  blows 
across  our  high  perch,  for  it  far  outtops  most  of  the  sur- 
rounding region.  The  sensation  is  much  like  looking  down 
from  a  balloon,  and  it  would  be  difficult  anywhere  else  in 
the  world  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  enormous  commerce 
and  nervous  activity  of  such  a  great  mart  of  trade. 


IX. 

THE  CITY   OF   CHURCHES. 


We  have  crossed  the  East  Kiver  bridge  to  see  an  unique 
municipality.  The  people  of  New  York  are  said  to  go  over 
to  Brooklyn  chiefly  to  sleep  or  be  buried.  A  large  part  of 
the  working  population,  as  well  as  the  merchants  of  the 
metropolis,  make  it  their  dormitory,  while  in  the  suburbs 
are  the  beautiful  cemeteries  where  dead  New  Yorkers  lay 
their  bones.  Greenwood,  which  overlooks  the  harbor  from 
Gowanus  Heights  in  South  Brooklyn,  is  the  finest  Amer- 
ican cemetery.  It  is  possible  that  the  numerous  funeral 
processions  constantly  crossing  the  East  River  ferries  and 
bridge  have  aided  in  developing  the  religious  fervor  of  this 
populous  suburb,  for  nowhere  else  can  be  found  such  an 
aggregation  of  sacred  edifices,  and  under  the  ministr}^  of 
a  regiment  of  clergymen,  led  by  such  men  as  Beeeher,  Tal- 
mage,  and  Storrs,  Brooklyn  has  properly  earned  her  pop- 
ular sobriquet  of  the  "  City  of  Churches."  This  place  is 
entirely  the  growth  of  the  present  century,  and  its  remark- 
able expansion  in  recent  years  is  due  to  the  inability  of 


BROOKLYN  HEIGHTS.  65 

New  York  to  spread  except  far  northward.  Brooklyn 
stretches  several  miles  along  East  River  and  three  or  four 
miles  inland,  and  grows  so  rapidly  that  next  year's  census 
may  show  a  population  not  much  below  a  million.  Yet 
when  this  century  began  it  is  said  to  have  been  hard  work 
to  find  three  thousand  people,  and,  strangely  enough,  they 
had  to  cross  over  to  New  York  to  church.  A  band  of 
Walloons  first  settled  Brooklyn,  just  about  the  time  old 
Peter  Minuit  was  buying  Manhattan  Island  from  the  In- 
dians. Their  descendants  used  to  drive  cows  across  East 
River  to  Governor's  Island  to  graze,  the  river  then  being 
in  that  part — Buttermilk  Channel — shallow  enough  for 
fording,  though  now  this  channel  has  become  scoured  out 
deep  enough  to  float  the  largest  steamers,  and  the  Brooklyn 
docks  and  wharves  at  Red  Hook  Point  and  above,  where 
the  cows  then  crossed,  now  accommodate  an  enormous  com- 
merce. The  little  ferry  at  Fulton  Street,  which  first  accom- 
modated the  straggling  village,  has  grown  into  more  than  a 
dozen  steam-ferries  of  the  largest  capacity,  and  a  half  mil- 
lion people  daily  cross  them  at  one  cent  apiece.  To  see  the 
successful  process  of  packing  to  perfection  an  enormous 
human  sardine-box,  it  is  only  necessary  to  look  at  a  Brook- 
lyn ferry-boat  going  home  about  sundov/n.  The  thousands 
pouring  through  the  gates  do  not  want  seats;  they  are 
thankful  if  there  is  only  standing-room.  The  ferry  is 
short,  as  East  River  is  comparatively  narrow,  being  only 
one-third  the  width  of  the  Hudson,  but  its  fleet  of  ferry- 
boats are  the  greatest  transporters  of  human  beings  in  the 
world. 

BROOKLYN    HEIGHTS. 

Fulton  ferry  leads  to  Fulton  Street,  the  chief  business 
highway,  and  the  great  bridge-approach  descends  on  the 
Brooklyn  shore  alongside  this  street.  As  various  avenues 
and  street?  radiate  from  it,  to  take  Fulton  Street  becomes, 
much  like  Broadway,  a  necessity  in  the  sister  city.     It  is 

5 


66  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

broad  and  attractive,  stretching  five  miles  to  the  eastern 
edge  of  the  town,  and  at  about  a  mile  from  the  river  passes 
the  various  city  buildings,  including  the  splendid  post-office 
recently  erected.  From  Fulton  Street  radiate  many  of  the 
highways  leading  into  the  popular  residential  quarter, 
Brooklyn  Heights,  where  the  tree-bordered  avenues  are 
lined  with  costly  dwellings.  Orange  Street,  not  far  from 
the  bridge,  leads  off  toward  the  river,  and  at  a  short  dis- 
tance, in  a  quiet  spot,  is  Brooklyn's  most  famous  edifice — a 
plain,  wide,  unornamented  brick  church,  bearing  the  in- 
scription, "  Plymouth  Church,  1849."  Here  preached 
Henry  Ward  Beecher,  the  great  Puritan,  w^hose  family 
is  so  noted.  His  father,  Lyman  Beecher,  like  the  son, 
fought  slavery  and  intemperance  in  Boston  and  Cincinnati, 
and  was  a  great  pulpit  orator.  The  old  man  was  erratic, 
however,  and  after  being  wrought  up  by  the  excitement  of 
preaching  is  said  to  have  let  himself  down  by  playing  on 
the  fiddle  and  dancing  a  double-shufile  in  the  ^^arlor.  He 
had  thirteen  children,  who  were  nearly  all  fam.ous,  and 
has  been  described  as  "  the  father  of  more  brains  than  any 
other  man  in  America."  Four  sons  were  clergymen  and 
two  daughters  noted  authoresses.  For  forty  years  Henry 
Ward  Beecher  ruled  Plymouth  Church  and  Brooklyn,  but 
since  his  death  the  church  has  declined.  A  little  beyond 
Orange  Street,  Clinton  Street  leaves  Fulton  and  passes 
southward  through  Brooklyn  Heights,  being  the  chief 
avenue  of  the  fashionable  district.  Embowered  in  trees, 
churches  and  residences  border  it,  and  Pierrcpont,  Ptcni- 
sen,  Montague,  and  other  noted  streets  extend  at  right  an- 
gles from  it  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  where  the  Heights  fall 
sharply  off  toward  the  river.  Here,  at  seventy  feet  eleva- 
tion and  overlooking  the  lower  level  of  buildings  and  piers 
at  the  water's  edge,  are  the  terraces  where  the  finest  resi- 
dences are  located,  having  a  magnificent  outlook  upon  the 
harbor.  This  region  is  as  highly  prized  by  the  Brooklyn- 
ites  as  Murray  Plill  and  Fifth  Avenue  by  the  New  York- 


GEEENWOOD  CEMETERY.  67 

ers.  The  ships  land  their  cargoes  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
the  palaces,  and  the  ladies  can  see  the  busy  cargo-workers 
from  their  boudoirs.  It  is  this  region  that  did  much  to 
decide  the  last  two  Presidential  elections,  for  Brooklyn 
Heights  has  ever  been  the  home  of  the  "Mugwumps." 
Led  out  of  the  Republican  party  in  1884  by  Beecher,  they 
elected  Cleveland,  but  their  shepherd  was  stricken  down  by 
apoplexy  in  1887,  and  the  flock  strayed  back  again  the  next 
year  to  aid  in  the  election  of  Harrison. 

Upon  Remsen  Street  is  another  noted  building,  the 
"Church  of  the  Pilgrims"— a  spacious  structure  of  gray 
cut  stone  with  towers,  its  most  prominent  tower  and  spire 
being  a  commanding  landmark  for  vessels  sailing  up  New 
York  Bay.  In  the  lower  part  of  this  church,  about  six 
feet  above  the  pavement,  there  is  let  into  the  outer  wall  a 
small  piece  of  the  original  "  Plymouth  Rock  "  whereon  the 
Pilgrims  landed  in  Massachusetts  Bay — a  dark,  rough-hewn 
fragment  projecting  with  irregular  surface  a  few  inches  from 
the  wall.  The  pastor,  Dr.  Richard  Salter  Storrs,  is  an  au- 
thor, lecturer,  and  preacher  of  wide  renown.  Upon  Clinton 
Street  is  Brooklyn's  finest  church — St.  Ann's  Episcopal — 
an  elegant  Pointed  Gothic  brownstone  structure.  But 
everywhere  are  churches,  with  miles  of  rows  of  comfortable 
dwellings  and  every  evidence  of  thrift  and  wealth,  for  these 
descendants  of  the  Puritans  are  much  like  other  well-to-do 
Americans.  Dr.  Talmage's  Tabernacle  is  on  Schermerhorn 
Street,  the  most  spacious  Protestant  church  in  this  country, 
having  a  semicircular  auditorium  not  unlike  a  theatre,  seat- 
ing over  five  thousand  people. 

GREENWOOD   CEMETERY. 

In  the  Brooklyn  suburbs,  and  making  a  border  of  tombs 
almost  around  the  town,  are  the  great  cemeteries  that  are 
the  burial-places  of  both  cities.  In  lovely  situations  upon 
the  ridges  of  hills  surrounding  Brooklyn,  Greenwood,  Cy- 
press Hills,  the  Evergreen,  the  Holy  Cross,  Calvary,  Mount 


C)8  AN   EASTEEN  TOUK. 

Olivet,  the  Citizens'  Union,  Washington,  and  other  ceme- 
teries cover  hundreds  of  acres.  The  noted  Greenwood 
Cemetery  occupies  about  four  hundred  acres  upon  Gowanus 
Heights,  south  of  the  city.  This  high  ridge  divides  Brook- 
lyn from  the  loAvlands  on  the  south  side  of  Long  Island, 
and  has  elevations  giving  charming  views.  The  way  out 
to  it  crosses  various  railroads  that  go  to  Coney  Island, 
which  seems  an  objective  point  of  most  Brooklyn  trans- 
portation lines.  The  route  leads  through  a  region  of  flor- 
ists and  stonemasons  with  extensive  hot-houses  and  marble- 
works — trades  that  seem  to  largely  thrive  upon  our  sor- 
rows. Then  a  neat  lawn-bordered  road  leads  up  to  the 
magnificent  cemetery  entrance,  an  elaborate  brownstone 
structure  highly  ornamented  and  rising  into  a  central 
pinnacle  over  one  hundred  feet  high.  With  the  wings 
this  entrance  is  one  hundred  and  forty-two  feet  wide  and 
covers  two  gateways,  there  being  over  each  gate  and  on 
each  side  basso-rillevi  representing  gospel  scenes,  the  chief 
being  the  Raising  of  Lazarus  and  the  Resurrection.  A  more 
splendid  or  appropriate  entrance  \vouId  be  hard  to  find, 
and  as  soon  as  the  gateway  is  passed  the  grounds  open 
in  beauty.  The  ridgy,  rounded  hills  spread  in  all  direc- 
tions, while  through  a  depression  to  the  right  is  caught 
a  bewitching  view  of  Kew  York  Bay.  The  surface  is 
an  alternation  of  hills  and  vales,  vaults  terracing  the 
hillsides,  with  noble  mausoleums  above,  and  frequent 
lakes  nestling  in  the  pleasant  little  valleys.  There  are 
many  miles  of  roads  and  paths,  and  vast  sums  have  been 
spent  on  the  grander  tombs,  some  being  built  upon  a  scale 
of  magnificence  rarely  seen.  The  attractive  rural  names 
of  the  avenues  and  walks,  the  delicious  foliage  and  flowers, 
the  lakes  and  valleys,  balmy  air,  and  grand  views  of  the 
surrounding  country  constantly  presented,  make  Green- 
wood a  park  as  well  as  a  cemetery,  so  that  it  is  without 
a  peer.  A  dozen  costly  pantheons  and  chapels  cover  the 
remains  of  well-known   people,  and   one  mausoleum  is  a 


GEEENWOOD  CEMETEEY.  69 

large  marble  church.  A  three-sided  monument  of  pecu- 
liar construction  standing  on  a  knoll  marks  the  resting- 
place  of  Morse  the  telegrapher.  Horace  Greeley's  tomb 
has  his  bust  in  bronze  on  a  pedestal.  A  colossal  statue 
surmounts  the  grave  of  the  great  De  Witt  Clinton,  the 
governor  of  Xew  York  who  built  the  Erie  Canal  and  thus 
made  the  commercial  supremacy  of  the  city.  The  roman- 
tic career  of  Lola  Montez  ended  in  Greenwood.  Commo- 
dore Garrison,  who  was  Vanderbilt's  rival  in  steamship 
management,  is  interred  in  a  mosque.  The  Steinway  tomb 
is  a  huge  granite  building.  A  magnificent  marble  canopy 
crowns  the  Scribner  tomb,  having  beneath  it  an  angel  of 
mercy.  The  Firemen,  the  Pilots,  and  the  Soldiers  all  have 
grand  monuments,  the  statue  sentinels  of  the  latter  over- 
looking the  broad  waters  of  the  bay.  There  are  so  many 
elaborate  sepulchres  that  it  is  impossible  to  particularize, 
though  probably  the  most  splendid  of  the  m.agnificent 
tombs  of  Greenwood  is  that  of  Charlotte  Cauda,  who 
died  in  early  youth,  an  heiress  whose  fortune  was  ex- 
pended upon  her  grave.  Upon  the  eastern  border  of 
this  attractive  place  is  the  high  lookout,  in  front  of 
which  the  flat  land  at  the  base  of  the  ridge  spreads  for 
miles  away  to  the  sea.  The  hotels  of  Coney  Island,  down 
by  the  ocean's  edge,  are  dim  in  the  distance,  and  far  over 
the  water  the  Navesink  Highlands  in  Jersey  close  the  view 
beyond  Sandy  Hook.  The  many  railroads  leading  to  Coney 
Island  can  be  traced  as  on  a  map  as  they  cross  the  level  sur- 
face. Then,  moving  from  the  eastern  to  the  western  side  of 
the  cemetery  through  a  forest  of  monuments,  another  look- 
out is  reached  having  a  broad  view  over  Brooklyn  and  the 
intervening  harbor  to  the  hills  of  Staten  Island  and  the 
Jersey  lowlands  beyond.  This  is  the  western  edge  of 
Gowanus  Heights,  where  the  busy  commerce  of  the  port 
is  spread  at  our  feet.  It  is  this  magnificent  scene  that  the 
marble  sentinels  overlook  who  are  guarding  the  Soldiers' 
Monument  erected  by  New  York  City,  and  the  declining 


70  AN  EASTEEN  TOUK. 

sun  as  it  sends  its  rays  over  the  water  makes  everything 
beautiful. 

PROSPECT   PAEK. 

A  short  drive  leads  from  Greenwood  to  Prospect  Park, 
crossing  several  more  railways,  all  going,  like  almost  every 
other  road,  toward  Coney  Island.  Finally,  the  "  Ocean 
Parkway  "  is  reached,  the  great  Coney  Island  boulevard,  a 
splendid  road,  two  hundred  feet  wide  and  planted  with  six 
rows  of  trees.  It  is  laid  in  a  straight  line  direct  from  the 
south-western  corner  of  the  park  down  to  that  noted  sea- 
side resort,  which  is  three  miles  away.  Prospect  Park, 
covering  nearly  a  square  mile  upon  an  elevated  ridge  in 
the  south-western  part  of  Brooklyn,  is  a  comparatively 
recent  enterprise.  The  perfection  of  elaborate  decoration 
and  landscape  gardening  displayed  in  the  New  York  Cen- 
tral Park  is  not  seen  here,  but  it  has  what  is  better — a  good 
deal  more  of  the  perfection  of  Nature.  The  attractive  un- 
dulating surface  has  scarcely  been  changed,  and  the  fine 
old  trees  that  grew  many  years  before  the  land  was  thought 
of  for  a  park  are  in  magnificent  maturity.  Its  woods  and 
meadows,  winding  roads,  lakes,  and  views  combine  all  the 
charms  of  landscape.  From  Lookout  Hill,  its  most  com- 
manding point,  there  is  a  view  almost  entirely  around  the 
compass,  stretching  over  land  and  sea,  and  including  Brook- 
lyn and  New  York,  the  Long  Island  and  Jersey  shores, 
Staten  Island,  the  Navesinks,  the  harbor,  and  the  ocean. 
Within  the  park  are  an  enclosure  for  deer,  an  extensive 
lake,  and  a  children's  playground  much  used  by  the  Brook- 
lyn Sunday-schools.  Here  the  concert-grove  and  promenade 
are  attractive.  From  this  charming  place  we  go  away  to- 
ward the  city  by  the  main  entrance,  which  is  called  the  Plaza. 
This  is  a  large  elliptical  enclosure,  having  a  splendid  foun- 
tain in  the  centre,  where  the  w^ater  pours  down  a  huge 
mound,  and  as  the  cataract  falls  it  runs  over  openings  that 
can  be  brilliantly  illuminated  from  within.     Abraham  Lin- 


GOING  TO  CONEY  ISLAND.  71 

coin  (in  bronze)  overlooks  this  Plaza,  which  leads  to  Flat- 
bush  Avenue  and  thence  into  town.  There  are  many 
charms  of  residence  in  Brooklyn  wherein  New  York  is 
lacking,  and  they  have  had  much  to  do  with  its  rapid 
growth.  There  is  plenty  of  room,  too,  for  sj^reading,  both 
for  living  homes  and  as  a  city  of  the  dead,  for  the  back 
country  of  Long  Island  stretches  indefinitely  toward  the 
rising  sun,  ready  to  absorb  the  millions  who  may  be  sent 
over  from  Gotham. 


X. 

GOING  TO  CONEY  ISLAND. 

The  visitor  to  Brooklyn  cannot  help  noticing  that  nearly 
all  of  its  railroads  lead  to  Coney  Island.  This  barren  strip 
of  white  sand  clinging  to  the  southern  edge  of  Long  Island, 
about  ten  miles  from  New  York,  is  the  great  objective  point 
of  the  millions  in  and  around  that  city  when  in  sweltering 
summer  weather  they  crave  a  breath  of  salt  air.  There 
are  a  dozen  ways  of  going  down  by  both  land  and  water, 
separately  or  combined,  but  when  the  enormous  crowds  of 
the  metropolis  suddenly  take  it  into  their  heads  to  go  upon 
a  hot  afternoon  all  the  routes  are  overcrowded.  Let  us 
follow  the  New  York  and  Brooklyn  example,  and  start  for 
Coney  Island  upon  one  of  the  numerous  railways,  taking 
the  Long  Island  Railroad  to  Mr.  Austin  Corbin's  seaside 
paradise — Manhattan  Beach.  We  are  soon  trundling  mer- 
rily over  the  flat  land  beyond  Brooklyn  in  a  train  laden 
with  sightseers  bound  to  the  races  and  the  ocean,  made  up 
of  men  and  women  of  all  nations  and  all  kinds — a  human 
conglomeration  such  as  only  cosmopolitan  New  York  can 
produce.  We  get  past  all  the  cemeteries  and  their  attend- 
ant monumental  yards,  and  run  out  among  the  prolific 


72  '         AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

potato-fields  and  cabbage-gardens  that  furnish  staple  food 
for  our  numerous  Irish  and  German  fellow-countrymen  of 
these  parts.  We  also  cross  at  grade  a  half  dozen  other 
railroads,  all  leading  down  to  the  same  popular  objective 
point.  We  are  going  through  the  suburban  town  of  Graves- 
end,  a  district  of  Kings  county  famous  for  successful  mar- 
ket-gardening and  practical  politics.  Its  semi-rural  and 
seacoast  population  worships  always  at  the  shrine  of  that 
noted  political  chieftain  and  boss — John  Y.  McKane. 
Gravesend  is  a  township  not  thickly  inhabited  by  steady 
residents,  but  those  it  has  are  gifted  beyond  most  of  their 
fellows  in  the  practical  statesmanship  that  has  always  an 
eye  out  for  the  main  chance.  It  will  be  interesting  to  our 
Philadelphia  friends  to  know  that  this  region  was  the  ready 
absorbent  last  year  of  much  of  the  "fund"  which  the 
Quaker  City  contributed  to  save  the  country  by  €lecting 
President  Harrison.  McKane  on  that  interesting  occasion 
was  a  financial  manipulator  with  telling  efiect.  Gravesend 
enjoyed  an  unexpected  and  most  remarkable  political  rev- 
olution ;  Harrison's  New  York  majority  was  made  sure, 
and  Senator  Q,ua3^,  as  he  found  his  budget  of  arguments 
(sent  from  Philadelphia)  producing  such  remarkable  results 
among  the  truck-gardeners  and  clam-gatherers  of  the  dis- 
trict, probably  then  felt  happier  than  he  has  at  any  time 
since  his  candidate  became  the  dispenser  of  patronage. 

SHEEPSHEAD    CAY. 

As  the  train  rolls  briskly  across  the  level  surface  of  this 
noted  district,  we  come  out  from  among  the  corn  and  cab- 
bages to  the  edge  of  the  great  salt-marshes  fringing  the 
Long  Island  shore.  Behind  the  eastern  edge  of  Coney 
Island,  Sheepshead  Bay  puts  in,  having  upon  its  shore 
the  ancient  fishing-village  of  that  name,  which  has  been 
metamorphosed  by  the  march  of  fashion  into  a  summer- 
villa  town.  The  train  halts  on  the  outskirts  of  this  village 
to  land  many  of  its  passengers  at  one  of  the  greatest  racing 


ON  THE  RACE-COUESE.  73 

establishments  of  the  country,  the  famous  race-course  of  the 
"  Coney  Island  Jockey  Club."     It  is  one  of  the  chief  race- 
days  of  the  June  meeting,  and  we  enter  with  the  crowds 
keenly  bent  upon  the  enjoyment  of  an  afternoon's  sport. 
Passing  through   the  expansive  covered  ways   under   the 
bordering  foliage  toward  the  grand  stand  and  the  paddock, 
the  extensive  lawns  are  found  in  perfect  verdure  under  the 
influence  of  abundant  rains  and  most  careful  trimming, 
and  the  flower-beds  are  charming.    The  stands  are  crowded 
with  thousands  of  men  and  women  enjoying  the  races  in  the 
most  animated  way,  and  doing  not  a  little  speculating  upon 
the  result,     The  spacious  betting-pavilion  behind  the  stands 
contains  hundreds  of  excited  people,  who  crowd  about  the 
betting-places,  and  then  wildly  rush  out  to  the  stand  in 
front  as  a  bell  announces  the  opening  of  a  heat.     Here  is 
all  the  mystic  and  peculiar  paraphernalia  of  the  betting- 
ring,  with    placards  couched  in   the  special   language  of 
the   turf.     There   are  plenty  of  "mutual   machines"  for 
"  straight  "  and  "  place  "  betting,  whilst  some  seventy-five 
of  those  professional  sporting  individuals  known  as  "  book- 
makers "  have  set  up  business  in  a  long  row  extending  around 
the  sides  of  the  pavilion,  paying  one  hundred  dollars  apiece 
per  day  for  the  privilege.     Each  has  his  sign  and  placards, 
making  a  miniature  office  where  he  conducts  trade.     Here 
gather  the  excited  crowds,  rushing  between  the  paddock  and 
the  stands,  and  then  to  the  betting-places,  and  at  times  busi- 
ness is  brisk. 

ON   THE   RACE-COURSE. 

The  scene  upon  the  race-course  is  brilliant  and  full  of 
animation,  as  the  people  eagerly  watch  the  contests  of 
speed  and  training  and  study  with  admiration  the  magnif- 
icent movements  of  the  famous  animals  upon  the  track.  In 
the  paddock  with  the  horses  there  gather  between  the  races 
the  jockeys  and  the  wise  men  of  the  turf,  who  are  up  on 
all  points  of  horseflesh  and  pedigree  and  fully  posted  on 


74  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

"  weights  "  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — necessary  knowledge 
for  the  accomplished  turfman.  Out  in  front  is  the  great 
oval  race-track,  with  its  distant  borders  of  stables,  all  the 
centre  clear  of  trees  and  shrubbery,  so  that  nothing  ob- 
structs the  view,  and  the  ground  sloping  down  from  the 
lawns  and  stands  toward  the  lower  level  of  the  race-track, 
keeping  every  part  in  full  sight  as  the  race  proceeds. 
AVatching  the  sport  from  the  greensward  below  or  the 
stands  above — at  times  wild  with  excitement  or  breathless 
with  hope  or  despair  when  some  "  neck-and-neck  "  contest 
gives  an  electrical  shock  to  the  anxious  wagerer  as  it  goes 
unexpectedly  wrong  or  otherwise — is  a  grand  mixture  of 
wealth  and  fashion  with  the  "  lower  ten  thousand  ;"  for  all 
manner  of  men  and  women  love  the  pleasures  and  the 
chances  of  the  race-track.  During  the  June  meeting  of 
1889  this  noted  race-course  at  Sheepshead  Bay  witnessed 
some  great  contests,  among  them  the  "American  Derby," 
the  "  Suburban,"  run  on  the  18th — one  of  the  best  races 
of  the  season,  watched  by  twenty  thousand  people,  with 
nine  noted  horses  contesting  for  ten-thousand-dollar  prizes, 
and  the  estimate  being  that  bets  aggregating  two  mil- 
lion dollars  changed  hands  on  the  result.  This  wonder- 
ful race,  which  had  been  talked  about  for  a  half  year,  as 
the  vast  crowd  saw  it,  was  a  flying  bunch  of  glossy-coated 
horses  and  little  jockeys  in  bright  silk  colors  passing  around 
the  track  in  barely  two  minutes  time,  the  close  being  a 
mighty  cheer  as  the  victor  rushed  under  the  wire  at  the 
judges'  stand  and  won  the  race. 

In  that  supreme  moment  many  of  the  deeply-interested 
spectators  lived  fast,  and,  as  their  betting  fortunes  were 
made  or  marred,  their  faces  told  the  story.  The  winner 
was  August  Belmont's  Raceland.  This  race-course  is 
masked  from  the  railways  by  a  border  of  foliage  which 
makes  almost  the  last  cluster  of  thrifty  trees  on  the  edge 
of  the  fast  land.  The  racing  ended,  the  crowds  moved  in 
vast  procession  out  to  the  trains  to  go  down  and  cool  off"  in 


THE  FAMOUS  SAND-STRIP.  75 

the  evening  at  the  Manhattan  or  Brighton  Beach  of  Coney 
Island. 

THE    FAMOUS   SAND-STRIP. 

It  does  not  take  long  for  the  railway-train  to  cross  the 
salt-meadows  from  Sheepshead  Bay  and  the  little  bordering 
creek,  and  then  to  run  over  the  sand  behind  the  great  Man- 
hattan Beach  Hotel.  Here  the  passengers  empty  out.  and, 
passing  to  the  front,  are  in  a  moment  brought  in  full  view 
of  the  Atlantic  Ocean  beating  against  the  protecting  bulk- 
head. The  enthusiastic  antiquarians  of  Coney  Island  insist 
that  this  was  the  earliest  portion  of  these  coasts  that  was 
discovered,  and  they  tell  us  how  old  Verrazani  came  along 
in  1529  or  thereabouts  to  find  the  narrow  strip  of  sand- 
beach,  and  how  Hendrick  Hudson  nearly  a  hundred  years 
later  held  conferences  with  the  Indians  on  the  island. 
However  that  may  be,  it  was  not  settled  until  compara- 
tively recently,  being  used  for  grazing  cattle,  while  the 
present  wonderful  development  as  a  summer  resort  has 
been  a  matter  of  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years.  The 
hard  and  gently-sloping  beach  faces  the  Atlantic  Ocean 
and  gives  excellent  facilities  for  bathing.  The  place  can 
be  so  easily  reached  and  in  so  many  ways,  both  by  land 
and  water,  and  at  such  a  small  cost,  that  it  is  no  wonder  on 
hot  afternoons  and  holidays  the  people  of  I^ew  York  and 
Brooklyn  go  down  by  hundreds  of  thousands.  Coney  Isl- 
and is  separated  from  the  mainland  only  by  a  little  crooked 
creek,  and  it  has  two  deep  bays  indented  behind  it — Graves- 
end  Bay  on  the  west  and  Sheepshead  Bay  on  the  east.  The 
name  is  said  to  come  from  Cooney  Island,  meaning  the 
"  Rabbit  Island,"  rabbits  having  been  among  its  chief  in- 
habitants in  the  earlier  days.  At  present,  during  probably 
one  hundred  days  from  June  until  September,  the  Coney 
Island  season  is  an  almost  uninterrupted  festival,  and  no 
French  fete-day  can  exceed  the  jollity  on  these  beaches 
when  a  hot  summer  sun  drives  the  people  down  to  the  sea- 


76  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

shore  to  seek  relief  and  have  a  good  time.  They  spread 
over  the  four  or  five  miles  of  sand-strip,  with  scores  of 
bands  of  music  of  various  grades  of  merit  in  full  blast ; 
countless  vehicles  moving;  all  the  minstrel  shows,  minia- 
ture theatres,  Punch-and-Judy  enterprises,  carrousels  and 
merry-go-rounds,  big  snakes,  fat  women,  giant,  dwarf,  and 
midget  exhibitions,  circuses  and  menageries,  shooting-gal- 
leries, concerts,  swings,  flying  horses,  and  fortune-telling 
shops  open ;  with  oceans  of  beer  "  on  tap,"  not  to  speak 
of  liquids  of  greater  strength ;  and  everywhere  a  dense, 
good-humored  crowd  sight-seeing,  drinking,  and  swallowing 
"  clam  chowder." 

THE   UNIVERSALITY    OF   THE   CLAM. 

The  only  country  approaching  this  place  in  similar  scenes 
is  France,  and  there  is  nothing  like  Coney  Island  elsewhere 
on  the  American  continent.  Our  French  cousins,  however, 
while  they  may  drink  wine  and  beer,  can  hardly  be  accused 
of  consuming  "  clam  chowder  "  to  any  appreciable  extent. 
The  clam  is  universal,  and  is  the  bivalve  to  which  Coney 
Island  and  its  visitors  pay  special  tribute.  This  famous 
bivalve  is  the  Mya  arenaria  of  the  New  England  coast, 
which  is  said  to  have  been  the  chief  food  of  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  for  years  after  they  landed  on  Plymouth  Rock. 
Hence  the  devotion  of  New  England  and  New  York  to  the 
mysteries  of  "  clam  chowder,"  which,  like  the  "  baked 
beans"  of  Boston  and  the  "scrapple"  of  Pennsylvania, 
has  become  a  national  dish.  Being  found  in  abundance  in 
all  the  neighboring  waters.  Coney  Island  naturally  serves 
up  the  clam  as  its  most  popular  food,  and  it  can  be  got  in 
every  style  according  to  taste,  amid  the  unlimited  mag- 
nificence (including  the  bill)  of  the  gorgeous  hotels  and 
restaurants  of  the  Manhattan  and  Brighton  beaches,  or  of 
varying  quality  and  surroundings  at  the  cheaper  shops 
farther  westward  toward  Norton's  Point.  At  one  estab- 
lishment of  renown  the  visitor,  besides  his  "  chowder,"  also 


THE  UNIVERSALITY  OF  THE  CLAM.  77 

gets  a  copy  of  the  "  Song  of  the  Clam,"  the  following  being 
the  most  thrilling  stanzas : 

"  Oh,  who  would  not  be  a  clam  like  me, 
By  maiden's  lips  embraced  ? 
And  men  stand  by  with  jealous  eye 
While  I  grip  the  fair  one's  waist. 

"  Who  better  than  I  ?  in  chowder  or  pie. 
Baked,  roasted,  raw,  or  fried  ? 
I  hold  the  key  to  society, 

And  am  always  welcome  inside." 

The  crowds  going  to  Coney  Island  on  a  summer  after- 
noon or  evening  usually  rush  back  home  again  the  same 
night,  although  the  lodging  and  hotel  accommodations  are 
upon  a  vast  scale.  The  aggregation  of  buildings  here, 
some  being  of  magnificent  proportions  and  decorations, 
represents,  I  am  told,  with  the  elaborate  general  improve- 
ments and  the  extensive  means  of  getting  to  them,  an 
investment  of  over  thirty  million  dollars.  A  season  at 
Coney  Island  is  said  to  be  poor  indeed  that  does  not  have 
ten  millions  of  visitors,  who  will  leave  behind  as  many  dol- 
lars, besides  paying  fifty  cents  fare  to  get  here  and  return, 
making  five  millions  more.  Thus  an  enormous  fortune  is 
expended  on  one  brief  watering-place  season,  and  with  the 
preparations  for  gathering  this  golden  harvest  it  can  be 
readily  believed  that  some  of  the  huge  hotels  lose  money 
unless  they  take  in  an  average  of  five  thousand  dollars  a 
day.  When  the  season  is  in  full  movement  five  thousand 
waiters  are  said  to  be  employed  in  the  hotels  and  res- 
taurants, besides  the  necessary  regiments  of  other  help. 
These  are  huge  figures  for  a  watering-place,  but  they  are 
the  outgrowth  of  its  enormous  business.  No  other  summer 
resort  has  such  an  aggregation  of  near-by  population  to 
draw  upon,  for  it  is  estimated  that  over  three  millions  of 
people  are  within  a  brief  ride  of  this  wonderful  sand-strip, 


78  AN  EASTERN  TOUE. 

and  hence  its  great  popularity  among  the  masses  around 
New  York  harbor. 


XI. 
THE   AMERICAN   BRIGHTON. 

Coney  Island  stands  pre-eminent  as  the  greatest  water- 
ing-place in  the  world.  There  are  often  poured  into  it,  by 
the  dozens  of  railway  and  steamboat  lines  leading  from  New 
York  and  Brooklyn,  half  a  million  people  in  a  few  hours 
when  the  idea  gets  possession  of  them  to  go  down.  The 
long  and  narrow  sand-strip  may  be  divided  into  four  sec- 
tions, being  a  succession  of  villages  chiefly  composed  of 
restaurants  and  hotels,  built  along  the  edge  of  the  beach 
and  a  single  road  behind  it.  As  best  known  to  the  New 
York  rough  of  a  past  generation,  the  original  Coney  Island 
was  the  western  end  or  Norton's  Point.  The  better  classes 
of  visitors  do  not  now  go  to  this  end,  which  has  been  a 
resort  of  long  standing  and  occupies  a  considerable  por- 
tion. The  middle  of  the  island  is  a  locality  of  higher 
grade  and  is  known  as  West  Brighton  Beach.  Here  are 
the  great  iron  piers  projecting  into  the  ocean  for  steamboat- 
landings,  being  surmounted  by  pavilions  used  for  restau- 
rants, while  beneath  are  bathing-houses.  Music,  electric 
lights,  and  fireworks  are  displayed  on  these  piers,  and 
many  visitors  thus  get  access  by  water.  At  West  Bright- 
on is  also  the  Observatory,  moved  here  from  Philadelphia 
after  the  Centennial  Exhibition,  and  rearing  its  tall  frame- 
work high  in  the  air.  Here  also  are  the  "  Big  Elephant," 
and  the  "  Sea  Beach  Palace,"  another  Centennial  building, 
used  for  a  hotel  and  a  raihvay-station.  It  must  not  be  for- 
gotten that  every  hotel  of  pretensions  in  this  lively  place 
has  its  own  railway,  and  that  the  competition  to  get  posses- 


CONEY  ISLAND  WRECKAGE.  79 

sion  of  visitors  really  begins  at  the  ferry-houses  and  rail- 
way-wharves of  New  York.  The  grand  "  Ocean  Parkway," 
the  wide  boulevard  leading  from  Prospect  Park  on  the  edge 
of  Brooklyn,  terminates  at  West  Brighton  Beach.  East  of 
tills  is  a  space  nearly  a  mile  in  width  which  is  partially 
vacant  between  West  Brighton  and  Brighton  Beaches.  An 
elevated  railway  connects  them  and  also  a  fine  driveway 
called  the  Concourse,  but  the  eastern  part  of  the  latter  has 
been  washed  away,  and  carriages  have  to  take  another  route 
farther  inland.  Brighton  Beach  is  the  third  section,  and 
about  a  half  mile  farther  east  is  the  fourth  and  most  exclu- 
sive section,  Manhattan  Beach,  the  two  beaches  being  con- 
nected by  a  steam  narrow-gauge  railroad  called  the  "  Ma- 
rine Railway,"  which  also  has  been  washed  away,  and  has 
had  to  retreat  to  another  more  inland  route.*  IVIanhattan 
Beach  is  Mr.  Austin  Corbin's  enterprise,  containing  the 
most  elaborate  and  costly  of  the  Coney  Island  hotels,  the 
Manhattan  and  the  Oriental,  the  latter  an  immense  estab- 
lishment of  over  five  hundred  rooms. 

CONEY    ISLAND   WRECKAGE. 

Nothing  is  more  impressive  on  these  beaches  than  the 
evidence  given  of  the  great  power  of  the  sea  as  shown  in 
recent  storms.  There  have  been  established  here  by  human 
ingenuity  the  most  extensive  attractions  for  the  public  en- 
tertainment in  grand  hotels,  delicious  green  lawns,  and 
splendid  promenades,  with  music-pavilions,  theatres,  and 
bathing-houses.  During  two  or  three  past  seasons,  how- 
ever, old  Neptune  has  had  a  spite  against  Coney,  especially 
against  the  costlier  portions.  Suddenly  taking  a  freak  dur- 
ing a  wild  storm,  he  has  attacked  and  destroyed  in  a  few 
hours  what  has  taken  years  to  construct.  Upon  the  low- 
lands   and    marshes    between    Brighton    and    Manhattan 

*  This  Marine  Eailway  was  again  washed  away  by  the  great 
storm  of  September,  18S9,  wliich  also  did  serious  damage  to  the 
bulkheads  in  front  of  Manhattan  and  Brighton  Beaches. 


80  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

Beaches  the  sea,  has  made  the  latest  serious  inroads,  hav- 
ing washed  oUt  a  deeply-indented  semicircular  bay,  around 
■which  are  the  wrecks  of  buildings  and  the  demolished 
splendor  of  bygone  days.  At  the  east  end  of  Brighton 
Beach  the  scene  at  the  opening  of  this  season  Avas  like  a 
piece  cut  out  of  the  ruins  of  Johnstown,  with  everywhere 
smashed  houses  and  wreckage,  which  were  being  gath- 
ered into  piles  and  burnt.  The  huge  Brighton  Hotel,  to 
secure  safety,  had  been  hauled  a  thousand  feet  back  from 
its  original  site,  this  being  skilfully  accomplished  by  putting 
a  number  of  railway-trains  under  the  building  and  hauling 
them  with  locomotives,  which  were  simultaneously  and  suc- 
cessfully moved  at  a  given  signal.  Much  of  the  place 
where  the  hotel  formerly  stood  is  now  covered  by  the  sea, 
the  waves  washing  over  it  and  beating  against  a  Hew  border 
of  earth,  piles,  and  sand-bags  which  has  been  put  up  to 
protect  the  lawns,  which  have  been  again  laid  out  in  most 
artistic  manner  in  front  of  the  hotel.  A  skilful  gardener 
has  restored  ail  the  beauty  of  the  greensward  and  flowers, 
but  alongside,  to  the  eastward,  when  I  saw  it,  were  the  bat- 
tered ruins  of  the  bathing-pavilion,  while  beyond  stood  up 
the  half-destroyed  trestle  of  the  "  Marine  Railway,"  an 
abandoned  skeleton  with  the  waves  playing  all  around  it. 
IManhattan  Beach  in  front  of  its  hotel  stretches  far  into 
the  sea,  eastward  of  this  wreckage,  to  the  original  water- 
line,  being  protected  beyond  the  great  music  pavilion  and 
lawns  by  a  ponderous  bulkhead  constructed  of  repeated 
rows  of  piles  filled  in  between  with  huge  stones.  This  bulk- 
head is  over  thirty  feet  thick,  and  outside  it  there  stretch 
into  the  ocean  several  long  narrow  piers  of  stout  timbers 
that  break  up  the  cross-currents  of  the  sea,  and  thus  aid  in 
holding  the  sand-deposits  in  front.  This  stout  bulkhead 
has  thus  far  been  a  complete  protection  for  the  extensive 
Manhattan  Hotel,  but  as  I  sit  and  write  at  the  window  tlie 
waves  are  dashing  against  it,  driven  before  a  strong  south- 
erly wind  with  terrific  force,  booming  with  a  solemn  sound 


THE  CONEY  ISLAND  CONSTANT  FETE.  81 

that  can  be  heard  far  away,  while  the  angry  waters  splash 
high  above  and  over  the  broad  walks  upon  the  edge.  Old 
Ocean  at  times  makes  terrific  attacks  upon  this  stubborn 
sea-wall,  and  the  angry  blow  and  seething  rush  betoken  an 
energy  threatening  to  break  the  barrier,  for  this  ancient 
and  untiring  enemy  generally  conquers.  It  is  curious  to 
note  some  of  the  freaks  of  his  foaming  majesty  along  this 
threatened  shore.  The  sands  washed  from  the  eastern 
parts  of  the  island  are  all  moved  westward,  and  piled  up 
to  make  new  land  in  front  of  West  Brighton.  Here  the 
shore-line  has  made  outwardly  under  the  great  iron  piers, 
so  that  for  more  than  half  their  length  there  is  now  dry 
land,  and  the  merry-go-rounds  and  cheap  shows  of  all 
kinds  are  in  full  blast  Vv^here  the  sea  had  complete  sway 
but  a  short  time  ago.  These  changes  are  constantly  mak- 
ing along  the  front  of  this  popular  sand-strip,  every  great 
storm  producing  alterations  in  the  contour  of  the  shore,  so 
that  while  the  public  spend  much  money  at  Coney  Island, 
it  takes  nearly  all  the  profits  of  the  show  to  maintain  the 
costly  establishments  and  provide  protection  and  needed 
improvements. 

THE   CONEY   ISLAND   CONSTANT   FETE. 

The  vast  crowds  emptied  out  of  the  railway-trains  arriv- 
ing every  few  minutes  are  poured  into  the  great  hotels  and 
swarm  out  upon  the  grounds  fronting  them,  where  the  bands 
play.  Here  are  the  finest  musicians  and  orchestras  giving 
afternoon  and  evening  concerts  to  enormous  audiences.  The 
renowned  Patrick  Sarsfield  Gilmore  wields  the  baton  at 
Manhattan,  while  Herr  Seidl  of  Metropolitan  Opera-House 
fame  is  the  maestro  at  the  Brighton,  each  having  a  mag- 
nificent band.  Where  favorite  cornet-players  get  five  hun- 
dred dollars  weekly  the  price  of  board  and  victuals  may 
be  expected  to  be  high.  The  scene  in  front  of  these  great 
hotels  on  a  summer  evening  will  not  soon  be  forgotten. 
Not  a  tree  will  grow,  and  the  breezes  blow  briskly  over  the 


82  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

water.  The  piazzas  are  filled  with  supper-  and  dinner-par- 
ties, the  music  amphitheatres  have  their  crowded  audiences, 
and  thousands  saunter  over  the  lawns.  The  blaze  of  illu- 
mination and  brilliancy  of  fireworks  are  added  to  the  glare 
of  electric  lights,  and  the  bustling  crowds,  music,  and  gen- 
eral hilarity  give  the  air  of  a  great  festival.  Vast  bathing- 
establishments  adjoin,  with  hundreds  of  private  dressing- 
rooms  and  wooden  pathways  down  to  the  sea,  lighted  by 
electricity,  where  j)oles  and  ropes  enclose  the  bathing- 
grounds  to  guard  against  danger.  These  houses  also  have 
restaurants,  with  open-air  exhibition-halls,  where  thousands 
sip  their  beer  and  listen  to  the  performance,  much  the  same 
as  upon  the  Parisian  Champs  Elysees.  Out  in  front  is  the 
pathway  of  the  ocean  commerce  into  New  York  harbor, 
with  the  twinkling  lights  of  Sandy  Hook  and  its  attendant 
lightships  beyond.  All  kinds  of  side-scenes  abound — for- 
tune-tellers and  silhouette-profile-cutters — and  after  having 
filled  yourself  up  with  beer  and  "  clam  choAvder,"  which  is 
so  liberally  placarded  in  all  quarters,  you  can  get  yourself 
accurately  "  weighed  for  one  cent,"  the  only  cheap  thing  at 
Coney  Island.  Everywhere  the  most  extensive  prepara- 
tions are  made  for  serving  meals,  as  the  vast  crowds  must 
be  fed.  Beer  is  served  without  stint,  and  the  laws  else- 
where provided  for  Sunday  observance  do  not  seem  to  reach 
this  extraordinary  island,  where  the  atmosjohere  appears  to 
inspire  a  thirst  of  consuming  character.  It  is  at  West 
Brighton  that  the  maze  of  hotels,  restaurants,  and  shows 
blooms  in  chief  luxuriance,  and  its  main  highway.  Surf 
Avenue,  is  a  great  sight,  the  excitement,  crowds,  and  gen- 
eral intensity  being  usually  greatest  on  Sundays.  Yet  the 
multitudes  are  all  orderly  and  good-humored,  requiring  but 
slight  police  supervision,  and  the  clangor  of  dozens  of  bands 
distracts  if  it  does  not  entertain.  Rows  of  places  have 
their  flags  flying  and  their  signs  out,  showing  devotion  to 
the  popular  Coney  Island  luxury,  the  clam — one  enthusiast 
who  cooks  them  in  full  view  calling  his  place  the  "  Hotel 


THE  OBSERVATORY.  83 

de  Clam."  At  the  headquarters  of  the  "  Louisiana  Sere- 
naders  "  one  can  see  the  show  for  a  quarter  and  have  "  a 
genuine  old  style  Coney  Island  clam-roast"  into  the  bar- 
gain. Photographers  take  pictures,  and  "  safe-deposit  com- 
panies "  are  established  that  take  charge  of  lunch-baskets 
and  parcels  for  a  small  fee.  The  style  of  the  place  degen- 
erates the  farther  westward  one  wanders,  while  the  crowds 
do  not  diminish,  and  the  universal  charge  for  almost  every- 
thing at  the  "  West  End  "  is  a  "  nickel." 

It  is  noteworthy  that  at  Coney  Island  the  development  of 
the  place  is  progressive  as  one  goes  from  the  west  toward  the 
east  end.  The  scale  of  the  buildings,  the  prices,  and  the 
character  of  entertainment  gradually  advance,  until  at  the 
east  end,  or  Manhattan  Beach,  a  condition  of  magnificence 
has  been  reached  enabling  a  careful  man  to  manage  to  exist 
at  the  rate  of  about  ten  or  twelve  dollars  a  day.  It  is  in 
this  financially  aristocratic  region  that  they  say  the  smiling 
hotel-cashier  takes  a  close  survey  of  the  guest  and  endeavors 
to  size  up  the  bill  proportionately  to  the  supposed  plethora 
of  the  pocket-book.  Once,  however,  I  am  told,  one  of  these 
keen  hotel-cashiers  made  a  mistake.  He  charged  wdiat  might 
have  been  regarded  as  a  stiff  price,  but  the  guest,  after  look- 
ing at  the  bill  a  moment,  shoved  it  back  with  the  contempt- 
uous remark,  "  Guess  again,  young  fellow ;  I've  got  more 
money  than  that." 

THE   OBSERVATORY. 

The  great  Observatory,  which  was  brought  here  from 
George's  Hill  in  Fairmount  Park,  its  light  iron  frame- 
work rising  three  hundred  feet,  having  elevators  con- 
stantly running,  supports  a  broad  platform  giving  an 
excellent  view.  When  the  journey  to  the  top  is  accom- 
plished the  first  impression  made  is  by  the  dissonant 
clangor  of  the  scores  of  bands  of  music  below,  heard 
with  singular  clearness  and  much  more  intensity  of 
sound   than   on   the   ground.     This   unanimous   noise   as- 


84  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

cends  from  all  sorts  of  structures  of  many  shapes  and 
styles,  and  generally  having  flat  pitch-and-gravel  roofs, 
making  a  variegated  carpet  far  below  us.  From  this  high 
perch  Coney  Island  is  seen  spread  out,  the  long  sand-strip 
upon  the  edge  of  the  ocean,  with  the  foaming  lines  of  surf 
slowly  and  regularly  rolling  in  upon  it.  Toward  the  east- 
ward, at  Brighton  and  Manhattan  Beaches,  it  bends  back- 
ward like  a  bow,  with  a  semicircle  notched  into  it  where 
the  sea  has  made  its  inroads  beyond  the  Brighton  Hotel. 
To  the  westward  the  curve  of  the  beach  is  reversed,  and  the 
extreme  point  of  the  island  ends  in  a  knob,  having  a  hook 
bent  around  on  the  northern  side.  The  "  Concourse,"  cov- 
ered with  moving  vehicles,  curves  around  parallel  to  and 
just  inside  the  surf-line,  suddenly  ending  where  the  sea  has 
destroyed  it,  the  carriages  passing  inland  to  another  road. 
Far  away  beyond  are  the  big  hotels  of  Manhattan  Beach. 
Behind  this  long  and  narrow  strip  of  sand  there  are  patches 
of  grass  and  much  marsh  and  meadow  stretching  away  to 
the  northward,  and  through  the  marsh  can  be  traced  the 
crooked  little  stream  and  series  of  lagoons  separating 
Coney  Island  from  the  mainland.  Far  off  over  these 
level  meadows  runs  the  broad  and  tree-bordered  "Ocean 
Parkway  "  toward  Prospect  Park  and  Brooklyn,  with  the 
hills  of  the  park  and  the  tombs  and  foliage  of  Greenwood 
Cemetery  closing  the  view  at  the  distant  horizon.  Other 
wagon-roads  and  a  half  dozen  steam-railways  stretch  in  the 
same  direction,  some  crossing  the  bogs  on  extended  trestle- 
bridges.  There  are  thousands  of  people  walking  about  on 
the  streets  and  open  spaces  beneath  us,  while  upon  the 
ocean  side  the  piers  extend  out  in  front,  with  their  pro- 
cessions of  steamboats  sailing  to  or  from  the  Narrows  to 
the  northward,  around  the  knob  and  hook  at  Norton's 
Point.  To  the  southward,  over  the  water,  are  the  distant 
Navesink  Highlands  behind  Sandy  Hook,  and  the  adjacent 
Kew  Jersey  coast  gradually  blending  into  the  Staten  Island 
hills  to  the  westward.     Haze  covers  the  open  sea,  and  far 


NEW  YOEK  PIARBOR.  85 

to  the  eastward,  seen  across  the  deeply-indented  Jamaica 
Bay,  are  the  distant  sand-beaches  of  "  Far  Eockaway," 
which  has  witnessed  the  most  recent  colossal  failure  in 
financing  a  mammoth  seaside  hotel. 

The  night  follows  the  day,  and  as  a  glorious  sunset  pales 
the  artificial  lights  come  out  and  sparkle  all  over  the  place, 
gas  and  electricity  aiding  innumerable  colored  lanterns  to 
make  an  illumination.  The  universal  music  renews  its 
strongest  if  not  its  sweetest  strains,  and  gorgeous  displays 
of  fireworks  burst  out  of  the  great  hotels.  The  festival 
proceeds  with  uninterrupted  pleasure  and  hilarity  through- 
out the  evening,  until  the  crowds  get  an  idea  that  the  time  has 
come  to  start  home ;  and  then  comes  one  of  the  chief  Coney 
Island  sights,  the  stampede  to  the  railways  and  steamboats. 
Over  land  and  water  the  vast  human  current  then  sets 
toAvard  Brooklyn  and  New  York.  The  crowds  that  have 
been  so  orderly  are  still  well-behaved,  for  the  sea  air  is  a 
sedative,  and  they  stream  through  the  ticket-gates  in  an 
almost  resistless  tide,  the  trains  and  steamers  being  loaded 
and  despatched  as  fast  as  possible.  It  is  when  the  time 
arrives  for  going  home,  and  these  swelling  torrents  of 
humanity  flow  out  upon  station  and  pier,  that  the  vast 
magnitude  of  a  Coney-Island  summer  Sunday  crowd  can 
best  be  measured.  It  is  something  almost  beyond  de- 
scription. 


XII. 
NEW  YORK  HARBOR. 


The  finest  view  in  New  York  is  from  the  tall  tower  of 
Mr.  Cyrus  W.  Field's  Washington  Building,  which  is  one 
of  the  sentinels  standing  at  the  foot  of  Broadway.  This 
tower  upon   the  outpost  at  the  lower  end  of  Manhattan 


SQ  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR. 

Island  rises  nearly  three  hundred  feet  above  the  pavement. 
The  wind  whistles  sharply  as  we  peer  out  from  this  great 
elevation,  and  beneath  us  the  green  grass  of  the  Battery 
Park  spreads  out  past  the  low  red-roofed  buildings  of  the 
Castle  Garden  emigrant  depot,  just  in  front,  until  it  reaches 
the  water's  edge,  where  the  Hudson  and  East  Rivers  mingle 
their  currents  together  to  form  the  harbor.  The  shining 
rails  of  the  snake-like  elevated  railways  curve  across  the 
park  from  either  side  until  they  come  together  at  the  South 
Ferry.  Out  in  the  harbor  a  little  way  is  Governor's  Island, 
nestling  cozily  upon  the  water,  with  its  little  Castle  William 
upon  its  western  verge  and  the  flag  of  the  army  headquarters 
waving  from  its  staff.  Beyond  the  island,  Bed  Hook  juts 
out  from  Brooklyn,  with  the  Buttermilk  Channel  between. 
Upon  the  right  hand  the  goddess  holds  her  torch  on  high 
as  a  guardian  to  the  mariner,  and  in  front,  as  she  looks 
toward  the  sea,  expands  the  great  harbor,  its  widely-ex- 
tended shores  rising  into  the  enclosing  hills,  seen  far  away 
over  the  water,  that  come  almost  together  at  the  Narrows, 
where  the  sunlight  glints  on  the  surface.  Such  is  the 
enchanting  scene  as  we  look  southward  over  the  Upper 
Bay  and  through  the  distant  narrow  opening  to  the  broad 
expanse  of  the  Lower  Bay  beyond.  Moving  or  at  anchor, 
everywhere  are  seen  myriads  of  the  vessels  that  make  the 
commerce  of  New  York.  Great  steamers,  puffing  tugs, 
stately  steamboats,  ships,  barges,  schooners,  ark-like  ferry- 
boats, yachts,  skiffs,  lighters,  and  the  multiform^  craft  of 
rivers  and  sea  are  everywhere  making  kaleidoscopic  changes 
of  position.  All  about  the  borders  of  the  harbor  are  fringed 
the  busy  towns  and  villages  that  have  gathered  for  satellites 
to  New  York.  Here,  on  the  right,  are  the  great  railway 
terminals  of  Jersey  City,  and  beyond,  its  shipping-wharves 
and  coal-ports  and  oil-tanks  spread  far  up  the  Kill  until  lost 
in  the  distance.  Over  there,  at  the  left,  are  the  vast  store- 
houses, docks,  and  piers  of  Brooklyn,  with  Gowanus  Bay 
glistening  behind  the  jutting  Red  Hook  Point,  and  Gowanus 


NEW  YORK  HARBOR.  87 

Heights  rising  beyond,  while  far  away  over  these  can  be 
traced  the  spider-like  threads  that  are  interwoven  to  make 
the  distant  elevator  standing  out  against  the  horizon  at 
Coney  Island.  Such  is  the  outlook  given  from  our  high 
perch  on  the  southern  point  of  IS'ew  York  over  a  harbor 
and  commerce  that  are  excelled  nowhere  in  the  Avorld. 

Then,  turning  about  to  get  the  northward  view  back  over 
the  great  city,  on  either  hand  the  two  rivers  can  be  traced, 
one  wide,  the  other  narrow,  as  they  go  away,  one  north,  the 
other  north-east.  Within  their  watery  embrace  is  the  broad- 
ening surface  of  the  town,  while  its  populous  suburbs  stretch 
far  back  from  the  opposite  shores.  Thousands  of  buildings 
of  all  conceivable  kinds  are  crowded  together,  a  mass  of 
curious  roofs,  through  the  centre  of  which  is  cut  down  the 
deep,  straight  fissure  of  Broadway.  Far  below,  between  its 
bordering  rows  of  tall  buildings,  the  street-cars  and  wagons 
and  many  busy  people  crowd  along,  and  above  rise  the  huge 
houses  and  spires,  making  the  line  of  the  famous  street, 
some  of  them  yet  unfinished  and  having  nimble  workmen 
perilously  climbing  about  them  to  push  their  structure  still 
farther  skyward.  Off  over  the  East  River  the  graceful 
curving  cables  of  the  Brooklyn  bridge  are  thrown  across, 
high  above  all  the  surroundings,  with  the  solid  towers  rising 
above  and  the  vessels  moving  on  the  water  in  full  view  far 
below.  Steeples,  domes,  chimneys,  turrets,  roofs,  and  steam- 
jets  are  seen  everywhere ;  and  thus  stretches  northward  the 
vast  city  until  lost  in  the  haze  of  the  horizon,  bordered 
away  up  the  western  bank  of  the  Hudson  by  the  distant 
wall  of  the  Palisades.  The  elevated  trains  rattle  upon 
their  long  lines  of  rails  that  can  be  traced  for  miles  among 
the  mazy  labyrinths  of  houses.  The  deeply-cut  and  crooked, 
narrow  streets  curve  off  from  our  feet  through  the  masses 
of  buildings  like  trenches,  down  in  the  bottom  of  which  the 
ant-like  inhabitants  are  creeping.  Thus,  standing  upon  the 
highest  elevation  in  lower  l^ew  York,  and  with  the  whist- 
ling wind  creaking  and  rattling  the  strong  iron  stays  of  the 


88  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

tall  little  tower,  3'et  having  its  foundations  firmly  built  into 
the  solid  rock  beneath  the  level  of  the  river-bed,  the  vary- 
ing noises  of  the  traffic  and  the  countless  whistles  of  the 
river-craft  come  up  to  us  from  all  sides  to  tell  of  the  rest- 
less, tireless  energy  seething  below.  It  is  a  superb  outlook, 
never  to  be  forgotten,  over  the  greatest  cit}^  and  harbor  of 
the  New  World. 

SAILING   DOWN   THE   BAY. 

Let  us  descend  and  take  a  closer  view  of  the  harbor  that 
has  been  thus  grandly  scanned.  On  one  of  the  many 
steamers  a  brief  and  pleasant  journey  can  be  made  down 
through  the  Narrows  toward  Sandy  Hook.  With  a  fresh 
wind  blowing  in  our  faces  we  head  for  that  little  opening 
between  the  hills  making  the  harbor  entrance,  and  appa- 
rently leading  only  to  vacancy.  The  wake  of  the  vessel  is 
a  line  of  bubbling  foam  among  the  watercraft  as  we  pass 
away  from  the  Battery  and  behind  the  lovely  foliage  of  its 
park  see  Broadway  stretching  back  through  New  York. 
Ahead  of  us  the  Narrows  seem  apparently  filled  by  the 
yachts  that  spread  their  w^hite  wings  across  the  distant 
expanse  of  the  Lower  Bay.  Gaining  speed,  we  pass  upon 
the  one  hand  the  old  castle  and  forts  of  Governor's  Island, 
and  upon  the  other  grandly  rises  the  colossal  Statue  of 
Liberty,  gaining  in  grandeur  upon  the  nearer  view.  Soon 
we  cross  below  the  entrance  to  East  River,  spanned  above 
by  the  great  bridge,  and  then  skirt  the  lines  of  stores  and 
shipping  in  front  of  Brooklyn,  which  stretches  off  into 
Gowanus  Bay  with  its  beautiful  background  of  Greenwood 
Cemetery.  We  are  gliding  smoothly  over  the  inner  har- 
bor, an  irregular,  oval-shaped  body  of  water  about  five 
miles  broad  and  eight  miles  long,  and  ahead  of  us  the 
pretty  hills  of  Staten  Island  gradually  approach  those  of 
Long  Island  to  make  the  Narrows,  each  bold  shore  being 
covered  with  villas.  We  pass  the  Quarantine  Station  at 
Clifton,  where  the  yellow  flag  warns  incoming  vessels  to 


THE  LOWER  NEW  YORK  BAY.  89 

anchor  and  await  the  inspection  of  the  health  authorities 
before  they  go  up  to  the  city.  The  landing  is  rather 
dilapidated,  but  it  has  a  pleasant  background  in  the  gar- 
den-environed residence  of  the  doctors,  whose  certificates 
give  entrance  to  New  Y'ork  after  their  brimstone  buckets 
have  often  gone  aboard  to  provide  fumigation  as  a  partial 
recompense  for  their  fees.  The  bold  blulf  stretching  south- 
ward from  the  Quarantine  rises  to  the  frowning  ramparts 
of  Fort  Wadsworth,  overlooking  the  Narrows,  vv^here  the 
Hudson  River  has  forced  a  passage  through*  the  broken- 
down  mountain-range  to  the  sea.  These  same  ramparts 
give  a  glorious  view  over  both  the  lower  and  the  inner 
bays  that  spread  from  the  city  down  to  the  distant  sand- 
streak  of  Sandy  Hook.  Fort  Lafayette  rears  its  deserted 
red  brick  walls  upon  an  island  in  the  Narrows,  and  behind 
it  rise  the  batteries  of  Fort  Hamilton  on  the  Long  Island 
shore.  Thus  the  fortifications  frown  from  the  hill-slopes, 
and  the  guns  expose  their  little  black  muzzles,  and,  were  it 
not  that  everything  is  overrun  with  weeds  and  soldiers  are 
scarce,  one  would  suppose  that  the  entrance  was  eflfectually 
guarded. 

THE   LOWER   NEW   YORK   BAY. 

From  the  Battery  down  through  the  Narrows  to  Sandy 
Hook  is  about  eighteen  miles.  With  accelerated  speed  the 
vessel  goes  through  the  attractive  pass  and  enters  the  Lower 
Bay.  This  is  a  grand  harbor — a  triangular  sheet  of  water 
measuring  nine  to  twelve  miles  on  each  side  and  almost 
completely  landlocked.  The  New  Jersey  shore  makes  its 
southern  boundary,  stretching  westward  into  Raritan  Bay, 
thrust  up  into  the  land  between  Jersey  and  Staten  Island. 
The  green  hills  of  the  island,  crowned  with  villas,  make 
the  north-western  boundary  of  the  bay.  Long  Island  and 
the  ocean,  with  the  projection  of  Sandy  Hook,  are  on  the 
eastern  side.  This  magnificent  Lower  Bay  has  an  anchor- 
age-ground covering  eighty-eight  square  miles.     With  the 


90  AN   EASTEEN  TOUR. 

inner  harbor  and  the  rivers  about  one  hundred  and  fifteen 
square  miles  of  available  anchorage  are  provided — a  most 
admirable  roadstead.  As  we  move  along,  Coney  Island 
gradually  unfolds  across  the  waters  of  Gravesend  Bay, 
outside  the  Narrows,  its  huge  hotels  and  elevator  and 
manjmoth  elephant  being  in  full  view.  This  long  strip 
of  sand,  with  its  curious  hooked  end,  is  a  guard  to  the 
Lower  Bay,  and  we  approach  it  from  behind.  On  both 
sides  as  the  bay  broadens  the  shores  recede,  and  amid  the 
fleets  of  yachts  and  vessels  of  all  kinds  the  steamer  heads 
for  Sandy  Hook.  The  freshening  wind  gives  a  foretaste  of 
Old  Ocean  as  lingering  looks  go  back  toward  the  receding 
Narrows.  Quickly  passing  the  jutting  end  of  Coney  Isl- 
and and  moving  out  in  front  of  it,  the  panorama  enlarges 
as  the  shore  spreads  away  past  Brighton  and  Manhattan 
Beaches,  with  their  great  hotels,  and  Far  Rockaway,  which 
looms  in  the  distance.  The  elephant,  with  his  surmounting 
howdah,  as  we  get  out  in  front  shows  his  enormous  head  in 
ponderous  majesty.  But  soon  Coney  Island  gradually  fades 
as  the  route  is  followed  southward  toward  the  Hook. 

The  Navesink  Highlands  that  come  up  from  the  west- 
ward partly  cross  the  view  ahead,  and  seem  to  be  suddenly 
cut  down  as  the  land  falls  away  to  make  the  low  point  run- 
ning out  to  form  the  Hook.  The  steamers  that  have  gone 
down  ahead  of  us  one  after  another  as  they  get  in  behind 
Sandy  Hook  turn  sharply  around  with  the  channel,  as  its 
red  bordering  buoys  guide  them  from  the  south  to  the  east, 
and  then  they  begin  the  long  journey  over  the  ocean,  each 
leaving  a  streak  of  black  smoke  carried  off  before  the  wind. 
Looking  back  beyond  the  vessel's  wake,  the  dim  outline  of 
Coney  Island  can  be  traced,  with  the  distant  Narrows  seem- 
ing almost  closed  and  apparently  alongside.  We  have 
reached  the  Hook,  and  find  that,  though  noted,  it  in  real- 
ity is  not  much  of  a  place.  A  green  fringe  borders  the 
yellow  sandbank,  as  the  end  hooks  around  backward  and 
makes  a  little  harbor,  while  beyond  are  the  white  light- 


STATEN  ISLAND.  91 

house  and  the  lower  beacon-light  on  the  point.  There  are 
a  few  houses  and  the  ruins  of  an  extensive  though  aban- 
doned fort,  partially  built  upon  a  plan  that  was  costly,  but 
is  now  obsolete.  The  sandy  surface  is  strewn  with  bursted 
guns  that  have  been  tried  at  the  Government  testing-sta- 
tion, which  has  for  many  years  been  located  here.  Far 
southward  from  the  Hook  the  Navesink  Highlands  stand 
boldly  up,  bearing  their  twin  lighthouses  that  are  the  first 
guide  to  the  distant  mariner  seeking  the  harbor  entrance. 
The  low  shores  of  Long  Island  are  dimly  seen  as  they 
recede  to  the  north-east.     Beyond  is  the  broad  Atlantic. 


XIII. 
STATEN  ISLAND. 


The  fair  island  of  Aquahonga,  as  our  aboriginal  ances- 
tors, the  Mohicans,  called  Staten  Island,  is  always  admired 
by  the  voyager  on  New  York  harbor,  but  is  rarely  visited. 
Its  pleasant  hill-slopes  border  the  Upper  and  Lower  Bays 
upon  their  western  side.  It  has  long  been  a  land  of  seclu- 
sion, of  sylvan  homes,  and  of  lovely  views.  Recently,  how- 
ever, the  restless  spirit  of  Erastus  Wiman  broke  through 
the  bucolic  fetters  that  had  bound  up  its  burghers  for  a 
century,  and,  capturing  its  railways  and  ferries  from  the 
Vanderbilts,  he  is  opening  it  to  the  world,  and  by  bringing 
in  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  and  Lehigh  Valley  railroads  he 
intends  to  develop  a  vast  terminal  trade  from  the  West  that 
will  fringe  its  harbor  shores  with  docks  and  storehouses. 
They  say  that,  by  rights,  this  ancient  island  of  Aquahonga 
belongs  to  New  Jersey,  but  that  it  was  captured  by  New 
York.  The  narrow  "  kills,"  stretching  for  nearly  twenty 
miles  from  St.  George  down  to  Perth  Amboy,  make  the 
boundary,   and    that    robust    Jerseyman,    Mr.   Cortlandt 


92  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

Parker,  has  often  declared  a  big  swindle  was  perpetrated 
when  New  Jersey  was  robbed  of  this  fair  island,  over  which 
the  myriads  of  summer  musicians  from  the  prolific  Jersey- 
bordering  marshes  around  Newark  Bay  still  enjoy  their 
sovereign  right  to  revel  amid  the  pleasant  hills  and  vales 
and  to  interrupt  the  dreams  of  her  people  by  their  insinu- 
ating addresses.  I  have  already  told  of  the  first  coming 
of  the  English  to  New  York  harbor  in  1664,  which  was 
under  a  grant  of  King  Charles  to  his  brother  the  duke  of 
York  of  all  the  country  from  Canada  down  to  Virginia. 
Subsequently,  the  duke  granted  to  Berkeley  and  Carteret 
the  portion  lying  betAveen  the  Hudson  and  the  Delaware 
Rivers.  This  grant  grieved  the  New  Yorkers  much,  and 
they  complained  that  it  gave  away  the  best  lands  around 
their  harbor ;  so  they  tried  hard  to  get  it  all  back,  and  in 
practice  they  did  get  back  Staten  Island.  Some  sharp  fel- 
lows invented  the  fiction  on  which  they  insisted  that  the 
Arthur  Kill  was  the  Hudson  River,  and,  taking  possession 
of  the  island,  they  never  gave  it  up.  A  legal  contest  was 
fought  for  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  and  it  was  not 
until  1833  that  a  treaty  between  the  States  declared  the 
Kills  to  be  their  boundary. 

This  pleasant  island  is  shaped  somewhat  like  a  leaf,  hung, 
as  it  were,  upon  the  long  projecting  peninsula  between  New- 
ark Bay  and  New  York  harbor,  the  Kill  von  KuU  stretch- 
ing westward  to  divide  the  island  from  this  peninsula,  which 
at  that  part  is  the  town  of  Bayonne,  running  off  into  Ber- 
gen Point.  From  Elizabethport  on  the  western  side  of 
Newark  Bay  the  Arthur  Kill  stretches,  a  narrow  strait,  far 
southward,  broadening  somewhat  into  Staten  Island  Sound, 
and  debouching  at  Perth  Amboy  into  the  w^estern  end  of 
Raritan  Bay.  The  island  is  about  sixteen  miles  long,  and 
from  its  eastern  slopes  has  a  noble  outlook  over  the  Lower 
New  York  Bay  toward  the  ocean.  Pretty  beaches  line 
these  coasts,  which  rise  sharply  into  hills  inland,  and  most 
of  the  points  of  vantage  have  been  availed  of  for  villas. 


THE  "  EAPID-TEANSIT  BOOM."  93 

The  "  Staten  Island  Rapid  Transit "  system  is  rapidly- 
developing  the  capabilities  of  this  elysium.  Its  ferry  is 
established  at  Whitehall  Slip,  the  lo^Yer  point  of  the 
Battery  in  New  York,  with  all  the  elevated  railways  run- 
ning into  the  capacious  ferry-house.  The  biggest  ferry- 
boats in  the  world  cross  this  five-mile  ferry  southward  to 
St.  George  on  the  northern  point  of  the  island.  The  ap- 
proach down  the  harbor  is  very  fine,  the  hills  rising  abruptly 
behind  the  landing,  terraced  with  the  pleasant  houses  of  the 
village.  To  the  left,  a  short  distance  away,  is  the  Narrows, 
beneath  which  the  company  hopes  some  day  to  bore  a  tun- 
nel connecting  with  Long  Island  and  Brooklyn,  so  as  to 
give  them  the  benefit  of  freight  and  passenger  direct  inter- 
change— a  work  that  can  be  done,  it  is  said,  for  six  millions 
of  dollars.  To  the  right  the  narrow  strait  of  the  Kill  von 
Kull  stretches  off"  westward,  gathering  on  its  crowded  Jer- 
sey shores  a  commerce  exceeding  that  of  Boston,  Philadel- 
phia, and  Baltimore  combined  in  the  immense  trade  which 
it  supplies  from  the  great  trunk-line  terminals. 

THE    "  KAPID-TEANSIT  "    BOOM. 

The  "Staten  Island  Rapid  Transit  Company,"  and  I 
know  not  how  many  other  kindred  enterprises,  are  the 
outgrowth  of  the  energy  of  Erastus  Wiman,  who  with  his 
associates  managed  to  get  possession  of  pretty  much  every- 
thing worth  having  on  this  island.  The  idea  he  has  been 
w^orking  out  is  that  its  shores  are  the  best  and  only  place 
left  for  the  expansion  of  the  commerce  of  New^  York  har- 
bor, and  their  adaptation  for  the  receipt,  storage,  and  ship- 
ment of  freight  is  of  incalculable  future  value.  At  the 
same  time,  the  island  itself  is  regarded  as  the  nearest  out- 
let for  New  York's  surplus  population,  which  at  some  time 
must  largely  occupy  it.  There  have  been  acquired  two  miles 
of  water-frontage  for  docks  and  stores  along  the  Kill  and 
the  harbor,  with  the  best  facilities  and  ample  depth.  Bring- 
ing in  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railroad  over  its  Arthur 


94  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

Kill  bridge  will  make  this  frontage  available  for  a  vast 
traffic.  The  heavy  terminal  charges  for  freight,  lighter- 
age, and  handling  that  are  universal  around  New  York 
harbor  can  here  be  reduced.  The  ferry  and  railway  take 
passengers  from  New  York  for  ten  cents  to  any  part  of  the 
island,  while  commutation  rates  reduce  this  to  five  cents  for 
the  residents.  The  insular  population  is,  consequently,  rap- 
idly increasing,  being  now  estimated  as  beyond  sixty  thou- 
sand. There  is  plenty  of  room  for  expansion,  for  in  its 
widest  portion  the  island  is  eight  miles  broad  and  it  covers 
some  fifty-eight  square  miles.  The  railway  has  three 
branches — two  going  from  the  ferry-landing  at  St.  George, 
one  each  way  along  the  shore  behind  the  docks  and  villages 
at  the  waterside,  while  the  third  branch  stretches  southward 
completely  through  the  island  to  Tottenville,  opposite  Perth 
Amboy.  The  abrupt  hill-slopes  run  at  some  places  into 
elevations  three  hundred  feet  high,  thus  diversifying  the 
surface  and  giving  superb  building-sites.  Down  these  hills 
more  "  kills  "  of  greater  or  less  magnitude  run  off  to  the 
surrounding  waters,  while  as  the  island  spreads  southward 
toward  Raritan  Bay  the  land  flattens  out  to  the  monotonous 
level  of  the  adjacent  Jerseys. 

For  a  brief  survey  of  this  "  Rapid-Transit "  development 
it  is  necessary  to  begin  by  a  walk  about  St.  George,  a  name 
wherein  the  projector  shows  his  loyalty  to  his  British  origin. 
Here  is  shown  the  enormous  establishment  necessary  for  the 
sporting  and  amusement  facilities  of  the  metropolis.  It  has 
the  finest  baseball  and  entertainment  grounds  and  grand- 
stands near  that  city,  drawing  many  thousands  of  visitors, 
and  most  admirably  appointed  and  located  closely  to  the 
ferry.  This  of  itself  is  a  largely  paying  institution.  The 
surface  of  St.  George  rises  somewhat  steeply  into  the  emi- 
nence of  Fort  Hill  behind  the  village,  where  Lord  Howe 
had  his  camp  when  the  British  troops  occupied  Staten 
Island  during  the  Revolution.  Part  way  up  this  hill-slope, 
and  at  an  elevation  of  about  one  hundred  feet  above  the 


A  "  EAPID-TEANSIT  "  JOUENEY.  95 

harbor,  is  the  projector's  pleasant  villa  of  Tantallen,  where 
there  is  a  gorgeous  view  over  the  great  harbor  and  back 
northward  to  the  city  of  New  York,  five  miles  away.  In 
the  centre  of  this  magnificent  picture  is  the  distant  foliage 
of  the  Battery  Park,  with  the  maze  of  buildings  and 
steeples  of  the  city  rising  behind  it.  To  the  left  hand 
stands  the  Liberty  statue,  dwarfed  by  the  broad  inter- 
vening space,  and  having  the  Hudson  River  coming  in 
between ;  while  down  in  the  foreground  is  the  little  light- 
house, standing  on  its  stilts,  that  warns  the  mariner  off 
Robbins's  Reef  To  the  right  the  tall  and  massive  Brook- 
lyn bridge,  with  its  graceful  cables  hanging  apparently 
like  the  thinnest  spider's  web  in  mid-air,  spreads  broadly 
across  the  scene,  stretching  into  Brooklyn  town,  and  then 
Gowanus  Heights,  and,  finally,  the  bold  promontory  of 
Fort  Hamilton  at  the  Narrows.  The  water  plays  with 
light  and  shadow,  and  the  vast  commerce  and  myriads  of 
moving  vessels  are  all  mapped  out  almost  at  our  feet,  mak- 
ing a  scene  of  which  the  eye  can  never  tire. 

A   "  RAPID-TEANSIT  "    JOURNEY. 

We  enter  the  cars  of  the  railway,  which  are  built  like 
those  of  the  elevated  roads  in  New  York,  and  for  a  hasty 
visit  take  first  the  line  along  the  shore  at  the  eastward,  pass- 
ing behind  and  through  the  villages  of  Tompkinsville,  Staple- 
ton,  Clifton,  the  Quarantine,  and  Fort  Wadsworth,  beyond 
the  Narrows.  After  a  few  miles'  ride  the  railroad  brings  us 
out  to  its  end,  at  Arrocher,  almost  at  the  water's  edge  of 
the  Lower  Bay,  where  the  sea  rolls  in  upon  a  splendid 
beach  that  is  five  miles  long,  while  beyond  there  is  a  mag- 
nificent outlook  over  the  blue  and  dancing  water  to  the  far- 
off  Navesink  range  and  the  long,  low  point  of  Sandy  Hook. 
Upon  this  route  are  passed  the  extensive  storehouses  of  the 
American  Cotton  Dock  Company,  an  enterprise  under  the 
management  of  a  leading  warehouseman,  Bostwick,  which 
has  demonstrated  the  storage-cheapening  capabilities  of  the 


96  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

place.  They  now  store  more  cotton  than  all  the  other  stores 
around  the  harbor,  and  save  that  trade  thirty  thousand  dol- 
lars monthly  by  reductions  in  terminal  charges,  the  cost  of 
storage  being  diminished  from  thirty  cents  to  ten  cents 
monthly  per  bale.  Enormous  advances  in  land  prices 
have  been  made  along  these  shores,  quadrupling  within 
a  few  years,  and  the  new  buildings  everywhere  going  up 
show  how  the  new  inhabitants  are  coming  in.  In  fact,  the 
growth  is  much  like  the  Aladdin  magical  expansion  of  a 
Western  town  when  first  touched  by  a  railroad. 

AVe  return  to  St.  George  and  take  the  western  line  of 
rails  along  the  bank  of  the  Kill  von  Kull.  Across  its 
waters  are  the  active  commerce  and  busy  terminals  of 
Bayonne,  the  forest  of  vessel-masts  at  the  petroleum 
wharves  and  the  adjacent  coal-shijoping  piers.  These  fringe 
the  whole  Jersey  shore,  with  populous  towns  behind  them 
and  a  green  background  in  the  Bergen  Hill.  Here  are  the 
Standard  Oil- Works  and  the  terminals  of  the  Tidewater 
Pipe  Line,  recently  beguiled  away  from  Philadelphia  by 
the  magnetic  attractions  of  that  vast  monopoly.  The  train 
swiftly  passes  extensive  plaster-mills  and  zinc-vrorks,  and 
glides  along  in  front  of  the  Sailors'  Snug  Harbor,  where 
some  seven  hundred  old  salts  are  spending  their  declining 
years  as  they  look  out  upon  the  enormous  commerce  of  the 
strait  in  front  of  their  attractive  home.  Moving  through 
village  after  village,  this  great  trade  is  displayed,  ending 
at  the  coal-piers  of  Port  Johnson  and  the  town  of  Bergen 
Point,  beyond  which  the  w^aters  of  Newark  Bay  stretch  far 
back  into  the  broad  expanse  of  the  Jersey  lowland  meadows. 
This  busy  Kill,  thus  heading  in  the  bay,  is  about  a  half 
mile  wide,  but  the  pow^erful  tidal  current  moving  in  and 
out  of  the  bay  scours  it  out  deeply.  We  pass  the  Starin 
ship-yard,  the  headquarters  of  J.  H.  Starin,  the  chief 
New  York  steamboatman,  and  through  the  town  of  Pich- 
mond,  the  county-seat  of  Richmond  county,  and  said 
to   be   the  best  town  on  Staten   Island,  having  a  goodly 


A  "  EAPID-TEANSIT  "   JOUKXEY.  97 

population  of  well-to-do  working  people  living  in  com- 
fortable frame  houses  and  favored  with  two  great  blessings 
in  these  degenerate  days — good  roads  and  moderate  taxes. 
Off  the  shore  is  the  little  oblong  Shooter's  Island,  set  in  the 
mouth  of  Newark  Bay,  a  sort  of  small  attendant  satellite 
upon  its  bigger  neighbor.  Through  the  thickly-settled 
region  to  the  westward  we  move  rapidly  to  Erastina,  where 
is  another  grand  pleasure-ground,  used  for  athletic  sports 
and  "  Buffalo  Bill "  enterprises.  Here  beams  down  upon 
us  the  imposing  sign  of  the  "  Wild  West  Hotel,"  showing 
the  sportive  temper  of  the  place.  This  is  five  miles  from 
St.  George,  and  beyond  it  the  railway  is  laid  two  miles 
farther  to  the  new  Baltimore  and  Ohio  bridge  over  the 
Arthur  Kill,  just  south  of  Newark  Bay.  The  route  soon 
exhausts  the  fast  land,  and  over  a  mile  of  trestles  lead  out 
to  the  bridge,  which  is  seen  across  the  marshes,  the  huge 
trusses  of  its  great  draw  rising  high  above  the  stream. 
All  the  land  hereabouts  is  a  vast  salt-marsh,  through  which 
the  Kill  wanders  southward,  having  highly-scented  fertilizer- 
factories  and  oil-refineries  on  its  banks.  These,  of  course, 
are  useful  in  their  way,  but  their  perfumes  do  not  seem  to 
be  eflfective  in  limiting  the  mosquito  crop,  for  which  these 
marshes  are  chiefly  known  to  fame.  The  bridge  is  about 
eight  hundred  feet  long,  and  it  has  an  enormous  draw, 
over  three  hundred  feet  long,  with  a  passage-way  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  wide  on  each  side  of  the  central  pivot 
pier.  In  fact,  the  massive  structure  seems  to  be  almost 
all  draw.  Beyond,  the  incomplete  railroad  goes  westward 
some  five  miles  into  the  New  Jersey  Central  tracks,  west 
of  Elizabeth.  As  we  stand  at  the  bridge  and  look  across 
the  monotonous  flats,  this  town  makes  their  background, 
spreading  like  a  low  fringe  of  trees  and  buildings,  with  a 
square  church-tower  and  a  spire  or  two  rising  against  the 
sky,  while  from  it,  through  the  marshes,  the  little  Eliza- 
beth River  flows  out  to  the  Kill. 
7 


98  AN   EASTERN  TOUE. 

THE   millionaires'   MAUSOLEUM. 

Again  returning  to  St.  George,  we  start  out  upon  the 
third  branch  of  this  wonderful  little  railroad,  laid  between 
the  others  and  running  completely  down  the  leaf-shaped 
island  to  its  end.  This,  like  the  others,  is  extensively  bal- 
lasted with  ship-ballast  brought  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
and  cheaply  landed  here.  The  enterprising  president  has 
thus  absorbed  historic  stones  from  Pompeii,  gravel  from 
China,  and  the  varied  rocks  and  soils  of  Italy,  Britain, 
France,  Germany,  and  the  Indies,  making  a  remarkable 
aggregation.  The  route  climbs  a  grade  of  ninety  feet  to 
the  mile  till  it  gets  upon  the  elevated  plateau  making  the 
larger  part  of  the  island,  which  has  many  pretty  lakes 
nestling  among  its  higher  hills,  with  fine  country-houses  in 
all  directions.  Here  is  a  place  of  wonderful  rural  beauty, 
the  railway  running  along  a  plateau  with  the  harbor  in  full 
view,  while  inland  the  surface  rises  into  a  range  of  higher 
hills  whose  wooded  tops  are  elevated  three  hundred  feet. 
Their  slopes  fall  off  abruptly,  as  if  they  had  once  formed 
a  border  for  the  harbor,  but,  the  waters  receding,  the  dry 
bed  was  left,  whereon  the  railway  is  now  laid.  Upon  this 
almost  level  surface  of  excellent  farming  land  is  the  vil- 
lage of  New  Dorp,  the  original  settlement  of  the  Vander- 
bilts,  a  farm  of  about  four  hundred  acres.  We  halt  at  the 
station  and  look  over  the  place  with  the  little  church  on 
the  hill-slope  that  guards  it.  This  is  an  ancient  Moravian 
foundation,  a  plainly  built,  square  white  wooden  structure, 
with  an  inscription  announcing  it  to  be  the  "  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  of  the  United  Brethren,  founded  1763 ; 
the  present  edifice  built  1844."  Tombs  and  gravestones 
are  all  about,  and  from  the  front  portico  we  can  overlook 
the  entire  farm  to  which  the  old  commodore  came  early  in 
life,  and  w^here  William  H.  Vanderbilt  was  born  and  lived 
an  agricultural  laborer  for  forty  years.  He  was  evidently 
of  little  account  in  those  days,  but  fame  found  him  through 


THE  NEW   YOKK  ANNEXED  DISTKICT.  99 

f 

tlie  road  of  enormous  wealth  afterward.  The  old  farmhouse 
still  exists,  but  a  more  modern  one  has  been  built  near  by. 
Far  away  in  front  spreads  the  magnificent  harbor,  and  as 
we  look  northward  across  the  water  we  see  the  little  red 
houses  out  on  the  Romers  Islands,  used  for  the  Lower 
Quarantine,  with  the  hotek  and  buildings  of  Coney  Island 
spread  out  in  the  distance  beyond,  and  Far  Rockaway 
looming  up  at  the  horizon. 

We  turn  our  backs  upon  this  beautiful  scene,  and,  look- 
ing westward,  past  the  churchyard  and  its  tombs  and  up 
the  terraced  hill  behind,  with  its  fringes  of  forest,  see 
between  two  wooded  slopes  the  round-topped  hill  within 
which  rest  the  two  great  millionaires,  father  and  son.  This 
hill  upon  the  higiiest  part  of  the  island  rises  steeply,  and 
into  its  front  is  built  their  spacious  gray  granite  mausoleum. 
It  is  an  imposing  yet  not  funereal  structure,  with  a  wall  in 
front  to  prevent  intrusion,  while  in  a  little  house  alongside 
live  the  watchmen  who  are  constantly  on  duty  to  prevent 
any  desecration  of  the  tomb.  Here  repose  all  that  is  left 
of  the  two  wealthiest  Americans — a  peaceful  spot,  over- 
looking their  home  before  their  gilded  lives  began,  and  a 
sentinel  at  the  gateway  of  New  York.  To  the  southward, 
a  short  distance  down  the  ransie  of  hills,  stands  a  lio-ht- 
house  guiding  the  mariner  up  the  harbor-channel  into 
Sandy  Hook.  In  the  old  churchyard  the  graves  of 
many  Vanderbilts  and  their  collaterals  are  scattered 
about  like  the  outpost  pickets  around  the  great  mauso- 
leum where  the  chieftains  of  the  family  are  laid  to  rest. 


XIV. 

THE  NEW  YOKK  ANNEXED  DISTKICT. 

The   metropolis,  as   already  noted,  has   during  recent 
years  in  its  expansion  northward  been  absorbing  consid- 


100  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

erable  portions  of  Westchester  county.  These  are  known 
as  the  "  xAnnexed  District,"  and  they  embrace  some  of  the 
most  beautiful  environs  of  New  York  beyond  the  borders 
of  Manhattan  Ishmd.  There  is  no  prettier  place  than  the 
little  winding,  tortuous  valley,  with  its  Hudson  Kiver  Kail- 
road  border  curving  around  the  northern  part  of  the  island, 
made  by  the  narrow  Spuyten  Duyvel  Creek.  It  comes  out 
through  a  deep  gorge  to  the  great  river,  making  a  shelter- 
ing cove  where  Hendrick  Hudson,  when  he  first  discovered 
it,  anchored  his  ship,  the  Half  Moon,  in  his  voyage  up  the 
river  in  1609.  The  shores  were  then  peopled  by  warlike 
IMohegans,  Avho  were  proof  even  against  the  seductive 
aroma  of  the  explorer's  schnapps,  for  they  attacked  him 
with  arrows  from  the  shore  and  forbade  a  landing.  This 
creek  was  historic  in  its  subsequent  naming.  The  redoubt- 
able old  Governor  Stuyvesant  had  a  wonderful  trumpeter, 
Anthony  von  Corlaer,  who  lost  his  life  in  attempting  to 
swim  the  stream  during  a  violent  storm.  Irving  tells  the 
tale,  and  how  his  death  named  the  creek.  "  The  wind  was 
high,"  he  writes,  "  the  elements  were  in  an  uproar,  and  no 
Charon  could  be  found  to  ferry  the  adventurous  sounder  of 
brass  across  the  water.  For  a  short  time  he  vapored  like 
an  impatient  ghost  upon  the  brink,  and  then,  bethinking 
himself  of  the  urgency  of  his  errand  (to  arouse  the  people 
to  arms),  he  took  a  hearty  embrace  of  his  stone  bottle,  swore 
most  valorously  that  he  would  swim  across  in  spite  of  the 
devil  {en  spyt  den  duyvel),  and  daringly  plunged  into  the 
stream.  Luckless  Anthony!  Scarcely  had  he  buffeted 
halfway  over  when  he  was  observed  to  struggle  violently, 
as  if  battling  with  the  spirit  of  the  waters.  Instinctively  he 
put  his  trumpet  to  liis  mouth,  and,  giving  a  vehement  blast, 
sank  for  ever  to  the  bottom.  The  clangor  of  his  trumpet, 
like  that  of  the  ivory  horn  of  the  renowned  Paladin  Or- 
lando when  expiring  on  the  glorious  field  of  Eoncesvalles, 
rang  far  and  Vv'ide  through  the  country,  alarming  the  neigh- 
bors around,  who  hurried  in  amazement  to  the  spot.   There 


EXTENSIVE  SUBUKBAN  PARKS.  101 

an  old  Dutch  burgher  famed  for  his  veracity,  and  who  had 
been  a  witness  to  the  fact,  related  to  them  the  melancholy 
affair,  with  the  fearful  addition  (to  which  I  am  slow  in  giv- 
ing belief)  that  he  saw  the  Duyvel,  in  the  shape  of  a  huge 
mossbunker  (a  species  of  inferior  fish),  seize  the  sturdy  An- 
thony by  the  leg  and  drag  him  beneath  the  waves.  Certain 
it  is  the  place,  with  the  adjoining  promontory  which  projects 
into  the  Hudson,  has  been  called  Spyt  den  Duyvel  ever 
since." 

EXTENSIVE   SUBURBAN   PARKS. 

Much  of  the  "  Annexed  District "  beyond  this  historic 
stream  is  yet  in  its  primitive  condition,  having  been  main- 
tained in  the  old  estates  that  come  down  from  the  days 
of  the  Knickerbockers.  While  New  York  has  in  Central 
Park  all  that  art  can  furnish,  yet  its  excessive  artificiality, 
recognized  especially  since  the  opening  of  Fairmount  Park, 
and  its  comparatively  small  size,  have  led  the  metropolis  to 
seek  new,  larger,  and  more  natural  parks  in  this  northern 
region.  Six  years  ago  the  legislature  of  New  York  created 
a  commission  to  select  lands  for  the  purpose,  and  it  has 
about  completed  its  labors,  locating  three  large  parks  and 
a  number  of  smaller  ones  in  this  new  region,  the  whole 
including  some  thirty-eight  hundred  acres,  which  have  cost 
nearly  ten  millions  of  dollars,  and  it  contemplates  spend- 
ing many  millions  more  upon  their  improvement.  The 
three  larger  parks  are  "  Van  Cortlandt,"  near  the  Hudson 
River  and  about  four  miles  north  of  the  Hieh  Brid^je  over 
Harlem  River,  comprising  nearly  twelve  hundred  acres; 
"  Pelham  Bay  Park,"  on  the  Long  Island  Sound,  shore, 
about  nine  miles  from  Harlem  River,  including  seventeen 
hundred  and  fifty  acres  ;  and  the  "  Bronx  Park,"  between 
the  two,  having  six  hundred  and  fifty  acres.  These  three 
great  pleasure-grounds,  which  can  have  almost  limitless 
development,  will  be  connected  with  each  other  by  mag- 
nificent tree-lined  avenues  six  hundred  f^ct  wide.      The 


102  '  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

Van  Cortlandt  Park,  whose  western  verge  overlooks  the 
Hudson,  is  accessible  by  three  railways.  Its  diversified 
and  picturesque  landscape  is  tg  be  availed  of  largely  for 
military  purposes.  There  is  a  level  parade-ground  cover- 
ing about  one  hundred  and  twenty  acres,  and  a  long  and 
level  field  w^hich  can  be  easily  adapted  for  a  rifle-range 
fifteen  hundred  yards  in  length.  There  is  also  a  lake,  and 
the  quaint  old  stone  mansion  where  lived  the  Van  Cort- 
landts,  whose  successive  generations  have  owned  the  estate, 
will  be  carefully  preserved.  The  hill  elevations  give  mag- 
nificent views  of  the  Palisades  and  along  the  Hudson  for 
miles. 

THE   LOVELY   BRONX. 

A  shallow  and  almost  aimless  little  stream,  flowing  from 
above  White  Plains  down  to  Long  Island  Sound,  with 
many  pools  and  rapids,  and  occasionally  broadening  into 
quiet,  mirror-like  lakes,  is  the  Bronx  River,  which  makes 
the  eastern  boundary  of  northern  New  York  City.  It 
comes  down  through  a  green  and  well-watered  and  shaded 
valley  a  half  to  three-quarters  of  a  mile  wide,  and  it  is  a 
considerable  portion  of  this  bewitching  region  that  makes 
the  Bronx  Park, 

"  Where  gentle  Bronx,  clear,  winding,  flows 
The  shadowy  banks  between  ; 
Where  blossomed  bell  or  wilding  rose 
Adorns  the  brightest  green." 

A  brief  drive  from  Harlem  River  along  the  newly-opened 
boulevard  leads  to  this  lovely  park,  which  stretches  from 
the  ancient  village  of  West  Farms  northward  to  Williams- 
bridge,  making  a  constant  succession  of  attractive  land- 
scapes. The  region  is  hilly,  and  in  places  the  little  river 
has  carved  its  winding  channel  at  the  foot  of  huge  gray 
rocks  rising  in  perpendicular  walls  fifty  feet  high.  Giant 
trees  flourish  in  all  their  native  dignity,  many  of  them 


THE  GLORIES  OF  PELHAM   BAY.  103 

much  over  a  century  old.  The  wildness  and  seclusion  of 
the  place,  its  natural  charms  and  romantic  character,  make 
one  almost  believe  that  New  York  cannot  possibly  be  near 
such  an  attractive  wilderness.  In  fact  it  was  designed  by 
Nature's  handicraft  for  a  park,  and  human  hands  cannot 
improve  it.  Y"et  it  is  less  known  to  the  average  New 
Yorker  than  Central  Africa.  The  Delanceys  were  once 
the  owners  here,  and  the  huge  Delancey  pine,  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  high  and  straight  as  an  arrow,  stands  in  a 
prominent  position,  having  a. large  branch  reaching  upward 
upon  one  side  with  interlacing  boughs,  making  it  appear 
not  unlike  a  gigantic  harp.  The  "  balanced  boulder  "  is 
near  by,  weighing  hundreds  of  tons,  yet  easily  rocked  to 
and  fro.  In  one  portion  the  Bronx  flows  deep  down 
between  high  walls  of  rock,  where  the  thin-armed  white 
birches  wave  their  slender  limbs  a  hundred  feet  above  the 
water.  Having  broken  through  this  gorge,  the  stream 
meanders  amid  stretches  of  green  lawn  and  meadow  scat- 
tered over  with  thickets.  Here  was  an  early  home  of  the 
Lorillards,  which  the  Park  officials  propose  to  now  make  a 
botanical  garden.  In  portions  of  the  upper  Bronx  one  is 
reminded  of  the  scenery  of  our  Wissahickon. 

THE   GLOKIES   OF    PELHAM   BAY. 

At  the  entrance  of  East  River  into  Long  Island  Sound 
the  peninsula  of  Throgg's  Neck  is  the  northern  headland. 
Beyond  this  the  waters  of  the  sound  have  deeply  indented 
the  New  York  shore,  and  there  is  thrust  out  the  green 
peninsula  of  Pelham  Neck.  All  this  is  some  distance  east 
of  the  Bronx  in  Westchester  county,  but  it  is  a  region  soon 
to  be  "  annexed."  Eastchester  Bay  is  on  the  southern  side 
of  the  neck,  and  Pelham  Bay  beyond  it,  while  immediately 
in  front  is  City  Island,  reached  by  a  long  drawbridge.  To 
the  north  is  Hunter's  Islatid,  to  which  another  bridge  gives 
access.  This  Hunter's  Island,  and  more  than  two  square 
miles  of  the  hills  and  meadows  adjoining  on  the  mainland, 


104  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

make  the  park  of  Pelham  Bay.  Many  old  mansions  are 
scattered  over  this  domain,  which  belonged  to  the  Hunters, 
the  Lorillards,  Potters,  and  other  families.  The  island 
belonged  to  many  generations  of  the  Hunters,  and  near 
the  bridge  a  large  gateway  keeps  out  intruders,  having  on 
one  of  the  marble  gate-posts  "  Hunter's  Island  "  carved  in 
plain  characters.  Years  ago  another  wealthy  man  bought 
this  island,  and,  these  words  offending  him,  he  brought  up 
a  marble-cutter  from  New  York  who  chiselled  them  off, 
and  carved  instead  the  words  "  Higgins's  Island."  But  Hig- 
gins  was  ultimately  gathered  unto  his  fathers,  and  the  next 
owner,  revering  him  less  than  the  antiquity  of  the  place, 
had  "  Higgins  "  eliminated,  and  "  Hunter's  Island  "  again 
stands  out  in  bold  relief  The  gate-post  has  become  very 
thin  under  this  treatment,  but  the  city  of  New  York  will 
probably  now  spare  it.  The  western  edge  of  Pelham  Bay 
Park  is  Hutchinson's  River,  which  flows  down  into  East- 
chester  Bay  and  recalls  the  days  of  the  Salem  witchcraft. 
Poor  Anne  Hutchinson  fled  here  to  escape  burning  as  a 
witch,  and  on  City  Island  built  a  hut  on  a  little  cape 
known  to  this  day  as  Anne  Hook.  She  lived  there  peace- 
fully for  a  year,  harming  nobody  and  declining  every  in- 
vitation of  the  islanders  to  stir  from  her  home.  One  morn- 
ing a  young  girl  went  to  visit  Anne,  but  found  the  hut  in 
ashes,  and  before  the  door  lay  the  poor  woman  where  she 
had  been  tomahawked  and  scalped  by  the  Indians.  No  one 
has  dared  to  build  a  house  on  Anne  Hook  since,  for  many 
are  the  tales  of  how  on  bleak  and  rainy  nights  the  phantom 
Indians  sneak  through  the  underbrush  and  shriek  a  ghostly 
requiem  as  they  dance  around  the  site  of  the  burning  hovel. 
Just  beyond  this  park  is  the  famous  Glen  Island,  where 
John  H.  Starin  on  his  excursion-steamers  takes  nearly  a 
million  people  every  summer,  showing  the  popularity  of 
all  the  resorts  on  these  pleasant  diores.  Fishing,  boating, 
and  bathing  are  provided  on  the  waters,  and  the  sinuosities 
of  the  shores  of  islands  and  mainland  provide  many  cozy 


ENTEEING  NEW   ENGLAND.  105 

nooks,  so  that  villas  are  dotted  in  most  favorable  localities. 
From  the  hills  forming  the  higher  portions  of  the  park  the 
view  over  the  sound  for  miles  in  both  directions,  and  upon 
the  hazy  land  beyond,  is  very  fine.  Magnificent  old  oaks 
and  elms  adorn  the  forests  that  were  thrifty  young  trees 
before  the  Dutch  came  to  New  York.  Most  of  the  estates 
have  been  well  kept,  so  that  landscapes  have  been  preserved 
and  improved  for  generations.  There  is  every  variety 
of  scenery — hill  and  woodland,  meadow  and  plain,  and 
splendid  water-views  bordered  with  the  delicious  green 
that  clings  around  the  myriad  bays  and  coves  of  the 
sound  and  its  pleasant  islanris.  Thus  the  metropolis  ex- 
pands, and  having  learnt,  with  growing  wealth,  the  charms 
and  benefits  of  bringing  the  country  into  the  town,  it  makes 
these  parks  before  the  rows  of  city  buildings  reach  them. 
Such  is  the  grand  environment  of  Nature's  loveliness  that 
is  being  developed  around  and  in  the  steadily-expanding 
domain  of  northern  New  York  City. 


XV. 

ENTEEING  NEW   ENGLAND. 

We  reluctantly  leave  the  attractive  environment  of  the 
metropolis  to  extend  our  journey  toward  the  rising  sun. 
From  the  Grand  Central  Station  of  the  Vanderbilt  lines, 
on  Forty-second  Street  in  New  York  City,  the  New  Haven 
Kailroad  carries  us  into  New  England.  The  line  runs  out 
of  town  through  long  tunnels,  and  then,  skirting  Central 
Park,  turns  north-east  across  the  Harlem  River,  through 
Morrisania,  Fordham,  and  a  succession  of  attractive  villages 
among  the  hills  and  rocks,  until  it  runs  along  and  finally 
crosses  the  pretty  little  Bronx  River  on  the  northern  bor- 
der of  Bronx  Park.     Swiftly  rolls  the  train  along  the  edge 


106  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

of  Woodlawn  Cemetery,  where  Jay  Gould  has  built  the 
magnificent  mausoleum  for  his  final  home.  Traversing  a 
region  of  market-gardens  and  patches  of  forest,  sprinkled 
with  outcragging  rocks  and  dotted  over  with  villas,  the  line 
passes  New  Rochelle,  where  the  French  Huguenot  refugees 
settled  two  centuries  ago  after  Richelieu  had  driven  them 
out  of  La  Rochelle.  Here  in  his  declining  years  lived  the 
noted  Tom  Paine  upon  an  estate  given  him  by  the  New 
York  State  Government.  The  most  prolific  crop  borne  in 
the  country  hereabout  is  rocks,  and  the  few  patient  hus- 
bandmen who  still  remain  here  to  battle  with  Nature  have 
gathered  the  loose  stones  into  piles  for  fences,  which  cross 
the  land  in  all  directions.  This  rocky  development  is  most 
profuse  at  the  village  of  Mamaroneck,  which  in  the  Indian 
tongue  means  "the  place  of  rolling  stones."  Once  in  a 
while  a  serious  effort  is  made  to  till  this  stony  land.  Over 
the  mazy  lines  of  stone  fences  and  rocks  of  all  kinds,  a 
hundred  yards  away  may  be  seen  a  man  with  a  yoke  of 
oxen  trying  to  plough,  but  scarcely  moving,  for  he  has  to 
go  slow  lest  the  plough  strike  a  sunken  crag  and  cause  a 
catastrophe.  The  farther  we  go  the  greater  the  develop- 
ment of  rocks,  the  bright  foliage  of  the  trees  springing  up 
among  them  making  a  pleasing  contrast.  Thus  moving, 
about  twenty-five  miles  from  New  York  the  train  crosses 
By  ram  River,  and  we  are  in  New  England,  which  the  old 
saying  announces  as  stretching  "  from  Quoddy  Head  to 
Byram  River."  This  original  Yankee-land,  although  the 
smallest  section  of  the  United  States,  has  made  the  deepest 
impress  upon  the  American  character,  and  has  carried  the 
banner  of  enterprise  and  colonization  throughout  the  entire 
Western  country.  In  ideas  and  thought,  as  well  as  in  mi- 
gration, the  New  Englanders  are  usually  our  leaders,  being 
the  people  of  most  advanced  views  in  politics  and  religion, 
and  usually  the  pioneers  of  radicalism.  They  have  not 
enjoyed  the  agricultural  advantages  of  other  sections,  the 
bleak  climate,  poor  soil,  and  generous  distribution  of  rocks 


THE  LAND  OF  STEADY  HABITS.  107 

and  sterility  making  farming  hard  work  with  meagre  re- 
.  suits,  so  that  the  chief  Yankee  energies  have  been  devoted 
to  developing  vast  manufacturing  industries,  literature, 
commerce,  and  the  fisheries ;  in  short,  the  Yankees  have 
had  to  live  by  their  wits,  and  have  most  admirably  suc- 
ceeded. All  the  six  New  England  States  are  not  much 
larger  than  New  York  in  surface,  while  their  population  is 
much  less ;  but  the  indomitable  spirit  of  the  Pilgrims  and 
other  religious  enthusiasts  who  w^ere  the  earliest  settlers 
implanted  the  untiring  energy  that  has  carried  New-Eng- 
land ideas,  methods,  and  population  all  over  New  York  and 
the  great  AVest. 

THE   LAND   OF   STEADY   HABITS. 

We  have  crossed  the  little  Byram  River  into  Connecti- 
cut, and  in  the  intervals  of  rocks  the  train  goes  over  inlet 
after  inlet  thrust  up  into  the  land  from  Long  Island  Sound, 
each  having  its  galaxy  of  little  rounded  islets  set  in  the 
entrance,  and  its  sloping  shores  studded  with  attractive 
villas  embosomed  in  foliage.  The  glimpse  along  each 
inlet  gives  pretty  though  brief  views  over  the  distant 
waters  of  the  sound,  with  the  sun  shining  on  the  white- 
winged  yachts  beyond.  Sharp  is  the  contrast  between 
Connecticut  and  New  York  City,  so  recently  left  behind 
us.  With  a  population  scarcely  one-fourth  the  millions  of 
souls  clustering  around  New  York  harbor,  yet  this  "  Land 
of  Steady  Habits"  has  always  made  the  deeper  impress  upon 
the  character  and  policy  of  the  country.  The  guiding  hands 
and  ino-enious  brains  rulino;  New  York  business  affairs  are 
largely  transplants  from  Connecticut  and  New  England. 
De  Tocqueville  pointedly  illustrated  this  subtle  influence 
in  a  little  speech  he  made  after  his  American  visit  at  a 
Fourth-of-July  dinner  in  Paris.  In  his  quaint  broken 
English  he  said: 

"  Von  day  I  vos  in  the  gallery  of  the  House  of  Represen- 
tatives.    I  held  in  my  hand  a  map  of  the  Confederation. 


108  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

Dere  vos  von  leetle  yellow  spot  called  Connect-de-coot.  I 
found  by  de  Constitution  he  was  entitled  to  six  of  his  boys 
to  represent  him  on  dat  floor.  But  when  I  make  the  ac- 
quaintance personel  with  the  member,  I  find  dat  more  than 
thirty  (30)  of  tlie  Representative  on  dat  floor  was  born  in 
Connect-de-coot.  And  den  ven  I  vos  in  de  gallery  of  the 
House  of  the  Senate,  I  find  de  Constitution  permit  dis  State 
to  send  two  of  his  boys  to  represent  him  in  dat  legislature. 
But  once  there,  ven  I  make  de  acquaintance  personel  of 
the  Senator,  I  find  nine  of  the  Senator  was  born  in  Con- 
nect-de-coot. 

"And  now  for  my  grand  sentiment:  Connect-de-coot — de 
leetle  yellow  spot  dat  make  de  clock-peddler,  de  schoolmas- 
ter, and  de  Senator ;  de  first  give  you  time,  de  second  tell 
you  what  to  do  with  him,  and  de  third  make  your  law  and 
civilization." 

This  wonderful  little  State  covers  only  four  thousand 
seven  hundred  square  miles,  and,  excepting  Rhode  Island 
and  Delaware,  is  the  smallest  in  the  Union.  It  is  the  spe- 
cial land  of  "  Yankee  notions."  It  gave  the  country  the 
original  personation  of  "  Brother  Jonathan  "  in  Governor 
Jonathan  Trumbull,  who  w^as  so  useful  a  coadjutor  to 
Washington.  Consulting  him  in  many  emergencies,  Wash- 
ington was  wont  to  rem.ark,  "  Let  us  hear  what  Brother 
Jonathan  says" — a  phrase  finally  popularly  adopted  and 
making  him  the  national  impersonation.  It  has  the  great 
Puritan  college  of  the  country — Yale — ruled  by  the  Con- 
gregationalists.  It  has  more  varied  and  more  productive 
manufactures  than  any  other  people  of  similar  means.  Its 
abundant  water-powers  contribute  to  this,  and  nearly  all  its 
inhabitants  are  engaged  in  maiiufacturing  of  one  kind  or 
another.  Its  machinery  and  methods  are  largely  the  inven- 
tions or  improvements  of  its  own  people,  among  whom  three 
stand  out  prominently :  Eli  Whitney,  of  the  cotton-gin ; 
Samuel  Colt,  of  the  revolver ;  and  Charles  Goodyear,  of 
India-rubber  fame.     The  inventive  talent  of  the  State  is 


SOME  ATTKACTIVE  CONNECTICUT  TOWNS.     109 

such  that  its  people  proportionately  get  more  patents  than 
those  of  any  other,  one  to  every  eight  hundred  inhabitants 
being  annually  granted.  Such  is  the  diversified  genius  that 
has  made  Connecticut  the  "Wooden  Nutmeg  State,"  and 
De  Tocqueville  rightly  called  it  the  "  leetle  yellow  spot  dat 
make  de  clock-peddler,"  for  Connecticut  has  almost  monop- 
olized clock-making  for  all  the  world.  It  leads  in  the  pro- 
duction of  India-rubber  and  elastic  goods,  in  hardware  and 
in  myriads  of  ingenious  "  Yankee  notions,"  and  is  also  very 
near  the  front  rank  in  making  sewing-machines  and  arms 
and  war  material.  Its  name  comes  from  the  chief  New 
England  river — Connecticut  meaning  the  "Long  Kiver" — 
flowing  down  from  the  White  Mountains  to  the  sound.  Its 
rugged  surfiice  is  diversified  by  long  ridges  of  hills  and  deep 
valleys,  generally  running  from  north  to  south,  the  prolon- 
gation of  mountain-ranges  beyond  the  northern  border. 
Through  the  western  counties  the  picturesque  Housatonic 
comes  down  from  the  Massachusetts  Berkshire  hills ;  the 
centre  is  crossed  by  the  Connecticut  Valley,  a  region  of 
beautiful  scenery  and  great  fertility ;  while  in  Eastern 
Connecticut  the  Quinnebaug  makes  a  deep  valley,  and, 
finally  flowing  into  the  Thames,  seeks  the  sea  at  New 
London.  The  many  hills  make  many  streams,  and  wher- 
ever one  is  large  enough  to  make  a  water-power,  there 
clusters  a  nest  of  busy  factories. 

SOME   ATTRACTIVE   CONNECTICUT   TOWNS. 

Our  train  glides  through  Greenwich,  the  south-western 
town  of  New  England,  and  as  we  enter  the  Yankee-land 
on  a  high  hill  stands  the  Puritan  outpost — the  stately  gray- 
stone  Congregational  church  with  its  tall  spire.  The  town 
stretches  up  to  the  wooded  slopes  north  of  the  railway  and 
away  to  the  edge  of  the  sound  on  the  south.  It  was  here 
that  General  Putnam  in  1779,  to  get  avray  from  the  Brit- 
ish dragoons,  swiftly  galloped  down  the  rude  rocky  stair- 
way leading  from  the  old  church,  while  their  bullets  rattled 


110  AN   EASTERN  TOUR 

around  him.  "  Old  Put's  Hill  "  is  there,  looking  much  as 
it  did  in  his  day.  The  train  rolls  along  past  attractive 
inlets  and  harbors,  one  of  the  prettiest  being  Mianus  River, 
with  Cos  Cob  on  its  bank  just  beyond  Greenwich.  The 
railway  winds  among  more  rocky  regions  with  their  bril- 
liant adornments  of  foliage,  and  soon  passes  picturesque 
Stamford,  where  twelve  thousand  people  are  gathered  upon 
the  hills  and  vales  covered  with  the  homes  of  New  York 
business-men  who  come  out  to  this  lovely  place  to  live. 
Their  dwellings  show  good  taste  in  architecture  and  embel- 
lishment, and  the  busy  factories  reflect  the  prevalent  phase 
of  Connecticut  life.  Here  in  the  last  century  lived  Colonel 
Davenport,  whom  the  poet  Whittier  immortalized.  He  was 
a  legislator  and  described  as  "  a  man  of  stern  integrity  and 
generous  benevolence."  AVhen,  in  1780,  the  memorable 
"  Dark  Day "  came  in  New  England,  some  one,  fearing 
it  was  the  day  of  judgment,  proposed  that  the  House 
adjourn.  He  opposed  it,  saying,  *'  The  day  of  judgment 
is  either  approaching  or  it  is  not ;  if  it  is,  I  choose  to  be 
found  doing  my  duty.  I  wish,  therefore,  that  candles  may 
be  brought."  South  Norwalk  is  another  nest  of  busy  mills, 
within  an  outer  setting  of  wooden  houses  that  spreads  up 
into  Norwalk  beyond.  The  thrifty  settlers  hereabout  orig- 
inally bought  a  tract  which  extended  one  day's  "north 
walk  "  from  the  sound,  and  hence  the  name.  Fine  oysters 
are  gathered  in  its  spacious  bay,  and  the  white  sails  of  the 
pun^ies  add  charms  to  the  harbor  view.  There  are  ten  thou- 
sand people  in  these  twin  factory-towns,  who  make  shoes  and 
hats  and  door-knobs  and  locks,  and  when  the  day's  labor  is 
ended  enjoy  the  attractive  land-  and  water-views  that  are 
all  about.  On  the  lowlands  to  the  eastward  the  noted 
Pequot  Indian  nation,  once  ruling  this  region,  was  finally 
overpowered  by  the  colonial  troops,  and  the  Sasco  Swamp, 
in  which  they  were  captured,  now  has  cattle  grazing  and 
oxen  plodding  upon  almost  the  only  good  land  seen  on  the 
route.     Thus  we  come  to  tranquil  old  Fairfield,  introduced 


SOME  ATTE ACTIVE  CONNECTICUT  TOWXS.     Ill 

by  a  rubber-factory  and  embowered  in  trees.  Its  green- 
bordered  streets  are  lined  with  cottages,  and  the  church- 
spires  rise  among  the  groves,  while  along  the  shore  it  has 
the  finest  beach  on  Long  Island  Sound. 

The  Pequannock  Iliver  is  crossed  a  few  miles  farther  on, 
with  the  busy  city  of  Bridgeport  on  its  banks.  The  train 
runs  in  among  the  enormous  mills  that  have  gathered  forty 
thousand  people  here — a  hive  containing  some  of  the  great- 
est establishments  in  the  world  for  making  sewing-machines 
and  firearms.  Here  are  the  huge  factories  of  the  Wheeler 
&  Wilson  and  Howe  Sewing-Machine  Companies,  Sharp's 
Rifle  Company,  and  the  Union  Metallic  Cartridge  Com- 
pany, with  some  of  the  greatest  carriage-building  shops  in 
the  country.  Cutlery  and  corsets,  carpets,  organs,  and  soap 
also  occupy  attention.  The  esplanade  of  Seaside  Park  over- 
looks the  harbor  and  sound  beyond,  and  toward  the  north 
the  city  stretches  up  the  slopes  into  Golden  Hill,  named 
from  its  glittering  mica  deposits,  where  magnificent  streets 
display  splendid  dwellings.  But  the  lion  of  Bridgeport  is 
P.  T.  Barnum,  who  is  passing  his  rij^e  old  age  in  the  stately 
villa  of  Waldemere.  The  veteran  showman  first  developed 
the  financial  advantages  of  amusing,  and  possibly  humbug- 
ging, the  public  on  a  great  scale,  and  also  (with  Jenny 
Lind)  started  the  American  fashion  of  paying  extravagant 
sums  to  opera-singers,  giving  her  one  thousand  dollars  for 
each  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  nights  of  concert-singing. 
He  introduced  Tom  Thumb,  who  was  born  in  Bridgeport, 
to  an  admiring  world,  and  his  *'  great  moral  shows  "  are 
fiimiliar  travelling  caravans  through  the  country.  But 
Bridgeport  is  left  behind,  and  then  in  quiet  old  Stratford, 
in  marked  contrast,  it  is  seen  that  the  new  and  active  order 
of  things  has  not  yet  wholly  disturbed  the  old,  and  that 
neither  hotel  nor  factory  encumbers  the  greensward  or  en- 
croaches upon  its  sleepy  houses,  where  one  may  dream  aw^ay 
a  sweet  twilight  under  the  shade  of  grand  trees  even  more 
ancient  than  the  village.    Beyond  we  cross  the  broad  bosom 


112  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

of  the  placid  Housatonic,  and  over  patches  of  marshland 
come  to  Milford,  with  its  long  stretch  of  village  green 
neatly  enclosed,  and  its  houses  upon  the  bank  of  the  silvery 
Wap-o-wang,  back  of  which  spread  the  wdde  streets  lined 
by  rows  of  overarching  elms.  A  colony  from  Milford  in 
England  settled  this  place  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago, 
and,  managing  to  crowd  the  Indians  off  the  land,  estab- 
lished the  primitive  church,  this  being  the  usual  beginning 
of  all  New  England  settlements.  Then,  true  to  the  Amer- 
ican instinct,  they  at  once  proceeded  to  hold  a  convention, 
the  result  being  the  unanimous  adoption  of  the  following: 

"  Voted,  That  the  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fulness 
thereof. 

"  Voted,  That  the  earth  is  given  to  the  saints. 

"  Voted,  That  we  are  the  saints." 

The  descendants  of  these  pioneer  saints  of  Milford  now 
make  straw  hats  for  the  country.  Beyond  the  town  the 
railway  crosses  a  broad  expanse  of  salt-marshes,  and  the 
train  soon  halts  at  New  Haven. 


XVI. 
THE  CITY  OF   ELMS. 


The  magnificent  elms  of  the  city  of  New  Haven,  arch- 
ing over  the  streets  and  the  Public  Green  and  grandly  rising 
in  stately  rows,  make  the  earliest  and  the  deepest  impres- 
sion upon  the  visitor.  In  one  of  his  most  eloquent  passages 
the  late  Henry  Ward  Beecher  said  the  elms  of  New  Eng- 
land are  as  much  a  part  of  her  beauty  as  the  columns  of 
the  Parthenon  were  the  glory  of  its  architecture.  Sharing 
this  feeling,  one  goes  about  the  Academic  City,  and  can 
readily  appreciate  the  admiration  all  true  New  Englanders 
have  for  their   favorite   tree.     The   grand   foliage-arched 


THE  CITY  OF   ELMS.  113 

avenues  of  New  Haven  are  unsurpassed  elsewhere,  so  that 
they  are  the  crowning  glory  as  well  as  the  constant  care  of 
the  town.  Among  the  finest  of  these  avenues  is  the  one 
separating  the  grounds  of  Yale  College  from  the  beautiful 
Public  Green  of  the  city — a  magnificent  Gothic  aisle  of 
rich  green  foliage-covered  interlacing  boughs.  While  these 
trees  contribute  so  much  to  the  beauty  and  notoriety  of  New 
Haven,  its  greatest  fame  comes  from  the  possession  of  Yale 
College,  one  of  the  most  extensive  and  comprehensive  uni- 
versities in  the  world.  For  almost  two  centuries  this  noble 
foundation  has  exerted  a  widely-diffused  and  advantageous 
influence  upon  the  American  intellectual  character,  and 
around  it  and  its  multitude  of  buildings  of  every  kind  now 
clusters  New  Haven  town.  This  college  began  in  a  very 
small  way  at  Saybrook,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Connecticut 
River,  in  1701,  and  had  only  one  student  during  its  first 
year.  Subsequently,  for  a  more  convenient  location,  it  was 
removed  to  New  Haven,  the  first  commencement  there  being 
in  1718,  and  its  first  college  building  was  then  named  Yale 
College — a  name  afterward  adopted  in  the  incorporation  of 
the  university,  and  given  in  honor  of  Elihu  Yale,  a  native 
of  the  town,  who  went  abroad  and  afterward  became  gov- 
ernor of  the  East  India  Company.  He  made  at  different 
times  gifts  of  books  and  money  amounting  to  about  five 
hundred  pounds  sterling,  his  benefactions  being  of  much 
greater  value  on  account  of  their  timeliness. 

Yale  is  the  orthodox  Congregationalist  college  of  New 
England,  usually  having  over  one  hundred  instructors  in 
the  various  departments,  and  about  eleven  hundred  stu- 
dents. Its  buildings  are  of  various  ages  and  styles  of  archi- 
tecture, the  original  ones  being  the  plain-looking  "  Old 
Brick  Row,"  north-west  of  the  New  Haven  Public  Green, 
behind  which  what  was  formerly  an  open  space  has  become 
gradually  covered  with  more  modern  structures,  while 
various  others,  such  as  the  Peabody  Museum,  the  Sheffield 
Scientific  School,  and  the  Divinity  Halls,  are  located  on 


114  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

adjacent  grounds.  The  line  of  ancient  college  buildings 
in  the  "  Old  Brick  Row "  facing  the  Public  Green  has 
quite  a  venerable  and  scholarly  aspect,  one  of  the  best 
of  them,  "  Connecticut  Hall,"  having  been  built  with 
money  raised  by  a  lottery  and  from  the  proceeds  of  a 
French  prize-ship  captured  in  the  colonial  wars  antedating 
the  Revolution,  when  Connecticut  aided  King  George  by 
equipping  a  frigate.  This  row  stretches  broadly  across  the 
greensward,  fronted  by  stately  arching  elms  arranged  in 
quadruple  lines.  Besides  the  great  value  of  its  lands  and 
buildings,  Yale  College  has  an  invested  fund  of  some  one 
million  seven  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  its  annual  in- 
come, including  the  tuition  fees,  is  about  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  The  Peabody  Museum  contains  one  of 
the  best  collections  of  curiosities  in  the  country,  and  the 
Yale  Library  is  extensive.  There  are  scores  of  buildings 
of  all  kinds — from  the  grand  academic  halls  down  to  the 
windowless  and  mysterious  mausoleum  that  I  am  told  en- 
tombs the  "  Skull-and-Bones  Society  " — occupying  the  spa- 
cious grounds  of  this  famous  college. 

THE    LAND    OF    QUINNEPIACK. 

The  Indian  name  for  the  region  round  about  New  Haven 
was  Quinnepiack,  and  to  this  day  the  placid  Quinnepiack 
River  flows  through  a  deep  valley  past  the  noted  "  East 
Rock"  into  the  harbor.  Old  John  Davenport  was  the 
leader  and  first  pastor  of  the  infiiut  colony  that  settled 
here — an  earnest  preacher,  revered  by  the  Indians  as  "  so 
big  study  man,"  who  delivered  the  original  sermon  on 
founding  the  town  from  the  text :  "  Wisdom  hath  builded 
her  house ;  she  hath  hewn  out  her  seven  pillars."  From 
this  came  the  original  scheme  of  government  for  the  colony 
by  the  seven  leading  church  members,  who  were  know^n  as 
the  "  seven  pillars."  It  has  since  greatly  grown,  probably 
in  some  other  things  than  in  the  quality  of  its  piety,  and, 
like  all  these  Connecticut  towns,  is  a  busy  hive  of  indus- 


THE  LAND  OF  QUINNEPIACK.  115 

try.  Its  many  mills  make  agricultural  raacliinery,  corsets, 
scales,  carriages,  organs,  and  pianos,  with  a  vast  amount  of 
"  Yankee  notions "  of  various  kinds  and  miscellaneous 
hardware.  There  is  also  some  commerce,  chiefly  with  the 
West  Indies  and  along  the  coast,  and  numerous  railways 
fetch  in  the  trade  of  the  surrounding  country.  New  Haven 
has  tastefully  adorned  suburbs,  where  the  hills  and  elevated 
roadways  aflbrd  charming  prospects.  In  the  outlying  re- 
gions, however,  the  great  attractions  are  the  two  bold  and 
striking  promontories  known  as  the  East  and  West  Rocks, 
w^hich  are  high  buttresses  of  trap  rock  lifting  themselves 
from  the  plain  upon  which  New  Haven  is  chiefly  built,  one 
on  each  side  of  the  town,  in  a  magnificent  array  of  oppo- 
sition, and  each  rising  over  four  hundred  feet.  Some  of 
the  inhabitants  think  these  grim  precipices  in  remote  ages 
may  have  sentinelled  the  outflow  of  the  Connecticut  River 
between  their  broad  and  solid  bases  to  the  sound.  Each 
of  these  tremendous  cliffs  is  the  termination  of  a  long  ridge 
or  mountain-range  that  comes  down  from  the  far  North. 
The  Green  Mountain  outcropping,  stretching  southward 
from  Vermont,  is  represented  in  the  West  Rock,  while  the 
East  Rock  terminates  what  is  known  as  the  Mount  Tom 
range,  through  which  the  Connecticut  River  breaks  a  pas- 
sage up  in  Massachusetts,  and  part  of  which  rises  a  thou- 
sand feet  in  the  "  Blue  Hills  of  Southington,"  making  the 
most  elevated  lands  in  the  State  of  Connecticut.  The  sum- 
mits of  these  two  great  rocks,  thus  projected  out  toward 
Long  Island  Sound,  afford  grand  views.  In  a  cave  upon 
the  West  Rock  the  three  regicides,  Goffe,  Whalley,  and 
Dixwell,  were  in  hiding,  and  the  three  avenues  leading  to 
this  rock  from  the  city  are  named  after  them.  Dixwell's 
bones  repose  upon  the  Public  Green  at  the  back  of  the 
"  Centre  Church,"  which  stands  in  the  row  of  three 
churches  occupying  the  middle  of  the  green,  which  was  the 
common  graveyard  of  colonial  New  Haven.  The  approach 
to  the  East  Rock,  going  out  Orange  Street,  is  grand.     The 


116  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

rock  is  elevjitod  high  above  the  marshy  valley  of  Mill 
River  winding  about  its  base,  and  reared  upon  the  topmost 
crag  is  a  noble  monument  erected  by  New  Haven  in  mem- 
ory of  the  soldiers  who  fell  in  the  Civil  War — a  magnificent 
shaft  overlooking  the  town  and  valley  that  is  seen  from 
afar.  The  whole  surface  of  the  East  Rock  is  reserved  as  a 
public  park.  Upon  the  face  of  the  cliff  the  perpendicular 
strata  of  reddish-brown  trap  stand  bolt  upright.  There  are 
well-laid  roads  of  easy  gradient  gradually  rising  through 
the  bordering  ravines  and  amid  the  forest  until  the  top  is 
reached,  where  from  this  elevated  outpost  there  is  a  charm- 
ing view.  Far  over  the  flat  plain  to  the  southward  spreads 
the  town,  with  its  little  harbor  stretching  out  into  the 
sound,  and  beyond,  across  the  silvery  waters,  there  can  be 
seen  the  distant  hazy  shores  of  Long  Island,  twenty-five 
miles  away.  The  numerous  wooden  houses  nestle  among 
the  trees,  and  the  two  little  crooked  rivers  coming  out  of 
the  deep  valleys  on  either  side  of  the  great  rock  wind  on- 
ward to  mingle  their  waters  in  the  harbor.  Smoke  ascends 
from  the  numerous  factory-chimneys  down  by  the  water- 
side, while  all  around  the  country  is  dotted  with  flourishing 
villages.  This  is  the  noble  outlook  over  the  "  City  of  Elms  " 
and  its  pleasant  surroundings  as  seen  from  this  grand  .out- 
post rising  high  above  the  plain  upon  which  the  Academic 
City  is  built. 

FROM  NEW  HAVEN  TO  HAKTFOKD. 

Almost  under  the  shadow  of  the  towering  East  Rock  is 
laid  the  railway  connecting  New  Haven  with  Hartford,  and 
thence  it  passes  northward  along  the  valley  of  Quinnepiack 
River  over  flat  meadow-land  bordered  by  blue  hills.  Brick- 
making;  seems  to  be  the  chief  industry  on  these  meadoAvs,  and 
they  are  prolific  grass-growers,  judging  by  the  hundreds  of 
little  haystacks  dotted  over  them.  Soon,  however,  sterility 
is  developed,  for  vast  sand-deposits  overlie  the  soil,  and 
farming  here  nmst  be  a  discouraging  occupation.     These 


FROM  NEW  HAVEX  TO  HAETFOIID.  117 

moors,  v>ith  their  sands  and  sloughs  and  scrub  timber,  dem- 
onstrate the  plight  of  the  average  Connecticul  settler,  for, 
being  unable  to  wrest  a  living  out  of  the  land,  he  either 
has  to  go  to  making  "Yankee  notions"  or  emigrate  or 
starve.  Wailingford  is  passed,  its  church-towers  crown- 
ing the  hill  to  the  eastward  of  the  railway  and  watch- 
ing over  a  population  largely  made  up  of  German-silver 
and  plated-ware  manufacturers.  When  this  town  was 
founded  John  Davenport  was  invited  to  come  out  from 
Xew  Haven  and  conduct  the  religious  services.  He  came 
and  preached  the  initial  sermon  from  a  text  regarded  as 
appropriate  to  the  locality :  "  My  beloved  hath  a  vineyard 
on  a  very  fruitful  hill."  Beyond,  and  nestling  under  the 
shadow  of  the  "  Blue  Hills  of  Southington,"  is  Meriden. 
These  hills  rise  high  above  its  western  and  northern  bor- 
ders in  the  West  Peak  and  INIount  Lamentation.  Here  is 
another  active  hive  of  factories  fringed  around  with  the 
neat  wooden  dwellings  of  their  operatives,  while  the  villas 
of  their  owners  are  scattered  about  in  pleasant  places  upon 
the  steep  declivities  of  the  adjacent  hills.  These  people  are 
industrious  workers  in  iron  and  steel,  in  bronze  and  brass, 
in  making  tin,  Britannia,  and  electro-plated  silverware.  The 
chief  establishment  of  the  place  is  the  well-known  Meriden 
Britannia  Company,  its  enormous  mills  being  spread  for  a 
long  distance  along  the  railway  and  making  the  greatest 
manufactory  of  its  kind  in  the  world,  sending  out  over  five 
million  dollars'  worth  of  its  wares  in  a  year. 

Meriden  and  Berlin,  a  short  distance  northward,  are  the 
headquarters  of  the  peripatetic  Connecticut  tin-peddler,  who 
starts  out  laden  with  all  kinds  of  tin  pans  and  pots  and 
other  bright  and  useful  utensils  to  wander  over  the  country 
and  charm  the  rural  housewife  with  his  bargains.  Berlin 
began  the  first  American  manufacture  of  tinware  in  the 
last  century.  While  it  bears  an  ambitious  German  name, 
it  was  started  by  a  colony  of  shrewd  Yankees.  These  New 
Enirland  villaires — and  there  are  hundreds  like  them — all 


118  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

seem  to  be  cast  in  the  same  mould  and  to  have  similar  cha- 
racteristics. There  are  in  each  the  beautiful  central  public 
green  shaded  by  rows  of  stately  elms ;  the  tall-spired  churches ; 
the  village  graveyard,  usually  sloping  down  a  hillside, 
with  the  lines  of  white  gravestones  supplemented  in  the 
modern  interments  by  more  elaborate  monuments ;  the 
attractive  wooden  houses  nestling  amid  foliage  and  sur- 
rounded by  gardens  and  flower-beds,  the  homes  of  the 
people ;  and  the  big  factories  that  give  them  employ- 
ment. Some  of  these  villages,  being  larger  than  others, 
may  show  a  greater  development  in  various  ways,  but, 
excepting  in  size,  all  are  substantially  alike.  The  ox- 
team  slowly  plods  along  the  road,  and  the  scanty  crop 
in  the  field  shows  how  the  sand  and  stones  have  choked 
the  efforts  of  the  husbandman.  And,  thus  gliding  along 
past  village  and  mill,  there  soon  comes  into  view  the  dis- 
tant gilded  dome  of  the  Connecticut  State  Capitol,  and 
finally  the  broad  fronts  of  the  buildings  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege surmounting  Kocky  Hill.  The  train  runs  among  a 
labyrinth  of  factories  down  upon  the  edge  of  the  little 
Park  River,  and  soon  halts  at  the  station,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Capitol,  in  the  centre  of  the  city  of 
Hartford,  on   the   Connecticut   River. 


XVII. 

THE   CONNECTICUT  VALLEY. 

The  noted  Adraien  Block,  the  Dutch  navigator,  built  at 
the  Battery  in  New  York  in  1614  the  first  ship  ever  con- 
structed in  New  York  harbor.  The  four  little  huts  he  put 
up  to  house  his  crew  and  builders  were  among  the  first 
structures  of  the  early  colony.  His  blunt-pointed  Knicker- 
bocker yacht  of  sixteen  tons  he  named  the  "  Onrest,"  and 


THE  CONNECTICUT  VALLEY.  119 

in  her  started  on  a  voyage  of  discovery  through  Hellgate 
into  Lono;  Island  Sound.     To  him  belongs  the  honor  of 
discovering  on  this  important  voyage  the  principal  river 
of  New  England,  and  after  his  explorations  he  rested  on 
the  land  that   still  bears   his  name — Block   Island.     The 
sources   of  the  Connecticut  River   are   in   the   highlands 
bordering  Canada  at  an  elevation  of  more  than  sixteen 
hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and  it  flows  south-west  over 
four  hundred  miles  to  Long  Island  Sound.     The  Indians 
called  it  "  Quonektakat,"  or  the  "  Long  River,"  and  hence 
the  name  and  that  of  the  "  Nutmeg  State  "  wherein  it  finds 
its  mouth.     The  river  has  always  been  noted  for  beautiful 
scenery,  and  has  many  cataracts,  among  them  South  Had- 
ley  in  Massachusetts  and  Enfield  in  Connecticut,  furnishing 
abundant  water-power  to  the  mills  lining  the   banks.     It 
flows  into  the  sound  thirty-three  miles  east  of  New  Haven, 
at  Saybrook.     The  first  English  patent  for  lands  on  these 
coasts  was  granted  to  Lord  Saye  and  Sele  and  Lord  Brooke, 
and,  this  being  the  earliest  settlement  under  their  auspices, 
it   bears   their   double  name.      The    original    colony   was 
planned   with    great   care,  as  the   place  was   expected   to 
become   the   home  of  distinguished   men,  and  a  fort  was 
built  on  a  hill  at  the  river's  mouth.    According  to  the  story 
told  by  the  historian,  it  was  to  Saybrook  that  Cromwell, 
Pym,  Hampden,  and  Haselrig,  with   their  party  of  mal- 
content  colonists,  intended  to   emigrate   when   they  were 
stopped  by  King  Charles.     Had  this  movement  been  con- 
summated it  might  have  greatly  changed  the  subsequent 
momentous  events  in  England.     A  little  west  of  the  old 
fort  there  was  a  public  square  laid  out,  where,  according  to 
the  town  plan,  their  houses  were  to  have  been  built.     I  have 
already  mentioned  that  Yale  College  began  in  Saybrook,  its 
first  building  being  a  long,  narrow,  one-story  structure  look- 
ing much  like  a  ropewalk  ;  and  this  house  was  afterward  re- 
moved with  the  colleo;e  to  New  Haven.     The  founders  of 
this  great  educational  establishment  were  pious  men,  Avho 


120  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

in  1708  drew  up, the  "Saybrook  Platform,"  with  a  declara- 
tion that  "tlie  churches  must  have  a  public  profession  of 
faith,  agreeable  to  which  the  instruction  of  the  college  shall 
be  conducted." 

The  ancient  Saybrook  fort  stood  upon  a  steep  and  soli- 
tary knoll  known  as  "  Tomb  Hill,"  which  a  few  years  ago 
was  carried  off  bodily  by  a  railroad  to  make  embankments 
across  the  adjacent  lowlands — an  act  of  vandalism  strongly 
criticised  at  the  time,  one  of  the  critics  bitterly  remarking, 
"  It  is  fortunate  that  the  Acropolis  and  the  temples  of  Baal- 
bek are  not  in  America."  The  earliest  governor  of  the 
colony.  Colonel  Fenwick,  was  afterward  one  of  the  regicide 
judges,  and  his  memory  is  preserved  by  the  village  hotel — 
Fenwick  Hall.  Old  Saybrook  is  a  languid  sort  of  town, 
however,  chiefly  spread  along  one  handsome  wide  street, 
canopied  over  by  the  arching  branches  of  its  stately  trees, 
under  which  the  distant  vista  view  looks  almost  like  a  scene 
through  a  veritable  foliage  tunnel.  This  sedate  and  historic 
settlement  gives  to-day  an  exhibition  of  the  original  Con- 
necticut in  the  serene  dignity  it  enjoyed  before  the  great 
impetus  of  manufacturing  industry  came.  The  quietness 
and  placidity  are  just  the  opposite  of  the  present  pushing, 
busy  Connecticut  as  shown  in  its  many  hives  of  industry, 
where  the  modern  Yankee  race  is  striving  how  to  do  most 
work  in  the  shortest  time.  The  broad  Connecticut  River 
flows  back  and  forth  in  front  with  the  tide  in  rather  tame 
and  uninteresting  fashion,  and  presents  an  additional  scene 
of  restfulness  in  keeping  with  the  ancient  colony  upon  its 
shores.  The  Saybrook  fort  only  saw  warfare  once,  and  that 
was  during  the  early  boundary  disputes  with  New  York. 
On  this  occasion,  we  are  told,  the  Dutch  from  Manhattan 
marched  against  it  "  brimful  of  wrath  and  cabbage,"  but, 
seeing  it  Avould  be  stoutly  defended,  the  chronicler  testifies 
to  their  prudence  by  adding,  "  they  thought  best  to  desist 
before  attacking."  The  lower  Connecticut  flows  through  a 
prolific  agricultural  region,  with  lands  enriched  by  copious 


THE  QUEEN   CITY  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.        121 

dressings  of  fisli-maimres  got  from  the  river.  It  passes 
picturesque  shores  and  sundry  farming-villages  below  Mid- 
dietown,  amid  scenes  that  in  a  diminished  sort  of  way  are 
reminders  of  the  hills  along  the  Hudson.  Another  nest  of 
active  mills  is  at  Middletown,  making  plated  wares,  pumps, 
and  webbing,  sewing-machines  and  tapes.  Its  shaded  streets 
lead  up  the  hill-slopes  here  enclosing  the  river  that  have 
"svithin  their  recesses  valuable  quarries  of  Portland  stone. 
The  court-house  is  a  quaint  little  miniature  of  the  Par- 
thenon. The  Wesleyan  Methodist  College  is  located  here, 
Memorial  and  Judd  Halls  being  grand  buildings.  North 
of  Middletown,  green,  level,  and  exceedingly  fertile  mead- 
ows adjoin  the  river,  their  great  yield  being  the  noted  onion 
crops  of  Wethersfield.  This  was  the  earliest  Connecticut 
settlement,  and  its  onions  permeate  the  whole  country.  It 
is  historic,  too,  for  here  convened  the  first  Connecticut  leg- 
islature to  declare  war  against  the  Pequots  in  1636,  while 
one  of  the  old  mansions  of  the  town  is  pointed  out  as  the 
place  where  Washington  and  the  French  officers  prepared 
the  plans  which  ended  the  Revolution  by  the  great  victory 
at  Yorktown. 

THE  QUEEN  CITY  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

We  have  ascended  the  Connecticut  River  to  the  State 
Capital,  the  noted  city  which  repeats  in  this  newer  land  the 
name  in  the  mother-country  of  the  ancient  Saxon  village 
at  the  "  Ford  of  Harts,"  whence  some  of  its  first  settlers 
came.  It  was  the  brave  and  pious  Thoinas  Hooker  who 
led  his  flock  from  the  sea-coast  through  the  wilderness  to 
Hartford  to  establish  an  English  settlement  at  the  Indian 
post  of  Suckiang,  where  the  Dutch  had  previously  built  a 
Ibrt  and  trading-station  at  the  bend  of  the  river.  That 
quaint  historian  of  early  New  England,  Cotton  Mather, 
afterward  described  Hooker  as  "  the  renowned  minister  of 
Hartford  and  pillar  of  Connecticut,  and  the  light  of  the 
AVestern  churches."     This  lovely  and  most  substantial  city 


122  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

well  deserves  its  favorite  title  of  "  The  Queen."  Its  centre 
is  a  beautiful  park,  in  front  of  which  the  narrow  and  wind- 
ing stream  known  as  Park  Kiver  flows  down  to  the  Con- 
necticut. From  the  railway-station  a  light  bridge  leads 
over  this  little  river  to  the  triumphal  brownstone  arch  with 
surmounting  conical  towers  which  is  the  tasteful  entrance 
to  the  park.  This  arch  honors  the  men  sent  out  from  the 
city  who  served  and  fell  during  the  Civil  War.  A  grand 
highway  then  continues  up  the  hill  to  the  Capitol  building, 
the  finest  structure  in  New  England,  an  imposing  Gothic 
edifice  of  white  marble  three  hundred  feet  long,  all  its 
fronts  being  elaborately  ornamented  with  statuary  and 
artistic  decoration,  while  the  high  surmounting  gilded  dome 
rises  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  The  interior  is  well 
lighted,  and  seems  to  be  thoroughly  adapted  to  the  pur- 
poses of  the  State  Government  and  the  halls  of  the  legis- 
lature of  the  "Nutmeg  State."  Rugged  and  famous  old 
General  Israel  Putnam,  the  idol  of  this  land  of  steady 
habits,  has  his  statue  in  the  Capitol  grounds ;  he  died  here 
in  1790.  "  The  Putnam  Phalanx  "  is  the  crack  military 
company  of  Hartford,  a  body  dressing  in  an  antique  Con- 
tinental uniform  and  having  a  membership  of  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  of  the  wealthiest  townsmen. 
Within  the  Capitol  is  the  bronze  statue  of  Nathan  Hale 
of  Connecticut,  whom  the  British  during  the  Revolution 
executed  as  a  spy.  It  is  one  of  the  most  striking  master- 
pieces of  sculpture.  The  almost  living  figure  seems  ani- 
mated with  the  full  vigor  of  earnest  youth,  and  with  out- 
stretched hands  actually  appears  to  speak  his  memorable 
words :  "  I  only  regret  that  I  have  but  one  life  to  lose  for 
my  country."  The  battered  and  weather-worn  gravestone 
that  originally  covered  Putnam's  grave  is  also  kept  as  a 
precious  relic,  and  alongside  of  it  are  cases  containing  the 
battered  battle-flags  of  the  Connecticut  regiments.  Within 
the  gorgeous  Assembly  Chamber,  which  is  the  gem  of  this 
magnificent  building,  tlie  law-makers,  it  is  hoped,  now  en- 


THE  CHARTER  OAK.  123 

act  milder  legislation  than  the  rigorous  "  Connecticut  blue 
laws "  of  the  olden  time,  when  the  iron  rule  of  the  stern 
Puritan  pastors,  then  governing  the  colony,  created  a  Dra- 
conian code  inflicting  death-penalties  for  the  crimes  of  idol- 
atry, unchastity,  blasphemy,  witchcraft,  murder,  man-steal- 
ing, smiting  parents,  and  some  others,  while  savage  laws 
also  punished  Sabbath-breaking  and  the  use  of  tobacco. 

THE   CHARTER   OAK. 

Much  of  Hartford  clusters  around  the  "  Charter  Oak," 
although  that  famous  tree  is  now  only  a  memory  revered 
by  the  townspeople.  Thirty-two  years  ago  it  was  blown 
down  in  a  storm,  and  its  remains  Avere  made  into  many 
precious  relics.  Our  old  friend  "  Mark  Twain,"  who  lives 
in  Hartford,  and  therefore  knows  much  of  the  matter,  says 
he  has  seen  all  conceivable  articles  made  out  of  this  precious 
timber,  there  being,  among  others,  "  a  walking-stick,  dog- 
collar,  needle-case,  three-legged  stool,  bootjack,  dinner- 
table,  ten-pin  alley,  toothpick,  and  enough  Charter  Oak 
to  build  a  plank  road  from  Hartford  to  Great  Salt  Lake 
City."  This  ancient  tree  concealed  the  original  royal  char- 
ter of  the  colony  w^ien,  in  1687,  the  tyrannical  governor 
Andros  demanded  its  surrender.  While  the  subject  was 
being  discussed  in  the  legislature  the  lights  were  put  out, 
and  in  the  darkness  a  bold  colonist  seized  it,  and,  running 
out,  hid  the  precious  document  in  the  hollow  of  the  oak. 
A  marble  slab  now  marks  the  place  on  "  Charter  Oak  Hill" 
where  the  tree  stood  alongside  "  Charter  Oak  Place,"  and 
"  Charter  Oak  Avenue  "  leads  up  to  it.  The  fine  statue 
surmounting  the  Capitol  dome  and  representing  the  female 
genius  of  Connecticut,  which  overlooks  the  city  with  out- 
stretched hand,  is  crowning  the  municipality  with  a  wreath 
of  Charter  Oak  leaves.  The  oak  leaf  is  repeated  in  many 
ways  in  the  gorgeous  decoration  within  and  upon  the  Cap- 
itol building,  and  also  upon  many  structures  throughout 
the  city.     The  name  of  "  Charter  Oak  "  is  given  to  a  bank, 


124  AN   EASTERN  TOUR 

a  life-insurance  company,  and  many  other  institutions  of 
the  solid  community  which  is  blessed  with  this  honored 
memory. 

Hartford,  in  proportion  to  its  population,  is  the  wealthiest 
American  city.  It  is  financially  great,  particularly  in  in- 
surance, there  being  no  less  than  twenty-one  fire  and  life 
companies,  some  of  them  of  great  strength  and  doing  bus- 
iness in  all  parts  of  the  world.  Its  Charter  Oak  Insurance 
Company  dwells  in  a  granite  palace  on  Main  Street,  and 
some  others,  such  as  the  Hartford,  the  ^tna,  the  Connecticut 
Mutual,  and  the  Ph(Bnix,  also  have  fine  buildings.  These 
companies  have  a  widespread  business,  and  some  of  them 
enormous  capitals  and  assets.  The  city  also  has  many 
strong  banks,  and  is  renowned  for  its  numerous  charitable 
institutions,  its  extensive  book-publishing  houses,  and  its 
educational  foundations,  the  most  noted  being  Trinity  Col- 
lege. From  the  elevated  position  of  this  college  there  is  a 
grand  view  across  the  intervening  valley  to  the  hills  of 
Farmington  and  westward  to  Talcott  Mountain.  The  vast 
wealth  of  the  Hartford  people  has  enabled  them  to  enrich 
its  picturesque  suburbs,  so  that  an  extensive  district  around 
it  is  covered  with  magnificent  villas,  making  a  semi-rural 
residential  section  that  is  unsurpassed  by  any  other  New 
England  city.  Arching  elms,  as  everywhere  else,  embower 
here  the  lawn-bordered  avenues  that  stretch  for  long  dis- 
tances, and  in  many  localities  the  superb  hedges  impart 
quite  an  English  air.  Some  of  the  splendid  suburban 
homes  of  the  "  Queen  City "  are  perfect  gems  of  artistic 
construction  and  attractive  decoration,  the  evidences  of 
the  wealth  of  the  people  being  shown  on  all  sides.  There 
is  also  a  devotion  to  art,  the  galleries  of  the  Wadsworth 
Atheneum  having  a  fine  collection.  Among  the  relics 
kept  here  are  General  Putnam's  sword  and  the  old  In- 
dian king  Philip's  club. 

But  the  citizen  whom  Hartford  seems  to  hold  in  highest 
esteem  is  the  late  Colonel  Samuel  Colt,  who  invented  the 


THE  CHARTER  OAK.  125 

revolving  pistol.  He  was  a  native  of  Hartford,  and  his 
remains  rest  under  a  noble  monument  in  Cedar  Hill  Cem- 
etery. A  beautiful  little  brownstone  Gothic  chapel,  the 
"Church  of  the  Good  Shepherd,"  has  been  built  in  his 
memory.  Colt  when  a  boy  ran  away  from  home  and  went 
to  sea,  and  is  said  to  have  there  conceived  the  idea  of  his 
great  invention.  Daring  several  years  he  sought  with  in- 
different success  to  establish  an  arms  manufiictory.  He  did 
not  prosper  until  1852,  when  he  started  a  factory  in  Hart- 
ford, and  with  the  great  demand  for  small-arms  then  stim- 
ulated by  the  opening  of  the  California  gold-mines  and  the 
exploration  of  the  Western  Plains,  and  afterward  vastly 
expanded  by  the  necessities  created  by  the  Civil  War,  his 
factory  grew  into  an  enormous  business.  "  The  Colt  Arms 
Company,"  which  was  for  many  years  managed  by  General 
Franklin,  is  the  chief  industrial  establishment  of  Hartford, 
having  very  large  buildings  adjacent  to  the  Connecticut 
River  that  are  filled  with  the  latest  appliances  and  ma- 
chinery for  making  the  most  approved  arms  of  all  kinds. 
These  mills,  however,  thrive  only  on  war,  and  it  may  grat- 
ify our  Peace  Society  to  know  that  they  are  now  running 
very  light,  though  still  making  a  goodly  number  to  supply 
a  demand  for  pistols  and  rifles  that  is  constant.  They 
employ  a  small  army  of  very  intelligent-looking  workmen, 
who  appear  to  be  in  advance  of  the  average  in  intellectual- 
ity. Throughout  these  vast  works  there  is  everywhere  seen 
a  reminder  of  the  great  Hartford  inventor  in  the  represen- 
tation of  his  family  coat-of-arms,  the  heraldic  "  colt  ram- 
pant," which  is  stamped  upon  all  the  arms  and  impressed 
and  reproduced  upon  all  the  adornments  of  this  greatest 
Hartford  establishment. 


126  AN   EASTEKN  TOUR. 

XVIII. 

THE    CONNECTICUT    INTERVALES. 

A  SHORT  distance  north  of  Hartford  is  the  imaginary- 
line  that  marks  the  Massachusetts  southern  boundary.  We 
follow  up  the  Connecticut  Valley,  which  is  here  a  broad  and " 
comparatively  level  region  of  good  land,  with  the  placid 
river  flowing  through  it.  We  have  temporarily  left  the 
region  of  sand  and  stones  so  well  developed  in  the  "  Nut- 
meg State,"  and  come  into  the  rich  meadows  of  Mattaneag, 
a  fertile  intervale,  where  the  fences  are  built  of  wood,  as 
stones  seem  scarce.  Its  entrepot  is  Windsor,  an  agricultural 
colony  started  by  John  Worham,  who,  the  local  historian 
says,  was  the  first  New  England  pastor  who  used  notes  in 
preaching.  Whether  he  defied  the  "  blue  laws  "  by  using 
tobacco  we  are  not  told,  but  his  colony  is  to-day  a  great 
tobacco-grownng  section,  through  which  the  Farmington 
River  flows  down  from  the  western  hills.  The  Enfield 
Kapids  of  the  Connecticut  are  here,  and  a  canal  formerly 
used  to  take  the  river-craft  around  the  obstruction  now 
gives  ample  water-power  to  many  paper  and  other  mills 
that  make  the  town  of  Windsor  Locks.  The  river  flows 
swiftly  over  its  pebbly  bed,  being  dammed  above  to  divert 
some  of  the  water  into  the  canal.  The  Hazardville  Powder- 
Works  are  not  far  away,  the  greatest  gunpowder-factory  in 
America,  and  Thompsonville  is  adjacent,  a  maker  of  carpets 
to  a  prodigious  extent.  Then  we  cross  the  boundary  into 
the  "  Old  Bay  State,"  the  chief  New'  England  common- 
wealth, also  largely  a  nest  of  factories,  and  the  leading 
State  of  the  Union  in  the  manufacture  of  cotton  and 
woollen  goods,  boots  and  shoes,  leather  and  paper.  Massa- 
chusetts, like  Connecticut,  has,  it  is  true,  in  the  Housatonic 
and  Connecticut  Valleys  some  productive  soils,  but  the 
greater  portion  of  the  more  elevated  lands,  as  well  as  the 


SPKINGFIELD  AND  ITS  AKMOEY.  127 

long  sandy  coasts,  gives  no  encouragement  to  the  agri- 
culturist. Its  surface  is  diversified,  the  Vermont  Green 
Mountains  coming  down  through  the  western  portion  in 
the  Taghkanic  and  Hoosac  ranges  of  Berkshire  county, 
that  are  parallel,  and  form  the  famous  Berkshire  Hills.  In 
the  north-west  corner  the  most  elevated  summit,  "  Old  Gray- 
lock,"  rises  nearly  thirty-six  hundred  feet,  while  in  the 
south-west  Mount  Everett  exceeds  twenty-six  hundred 
feet.  The  foothills  from  the  eastern  verge  of  the  Hoosacs 
slope  into  the  beautiful  Connecticut  Valley,  while  near  the 
centre  of  the  State  that  river  forces  a  passage  below  Korth- 
ampton  between  two  detached  ridges,  the  Mount  Tom  range 
on  its  western  bank  rising  thirteen  hundred  feet  in  one 
place,  and  Mount  Holyoke  on  the  eastern  bank,  eleven 
hundred  and  twenty  feet.  These  are  the  southern  outposts 
of  the  White  Mountains  of  New  Hampshire.  Earther  east- 
ward are  detached  peaks,  the  chief  being  Mount  Wachusett. 

SPRINGFIELD   AND   ITS   ARMORY. 

Just  north  of  the  Massachusetts  boundary  the  river 
sweeps  grandly  around  in  approaching  the  town  of  Spring- 
field, built  on  the  eastern  bank  and  spreading  for  a  long 
distance  up  the  slopes  of  the  adjacent  hills.  This  is  one  of 
the  busiest  and  most  prosperous  cities  of  Massachusetts, 
being  an  important  rail  way -junction,  where  the  lines  along 
the  Connecticut  Valley  cross  the  route  from  Boston  to 
Albany  and  the  West,  and  being  also  a  huge  factory,  espe- 
cially for  the  making  of  arms.  The  Puritan  missionary 
shepherd,  William  Pynchon,  led  his  hardy  flock  to  this 
Indian  land  of  Agawam  in  1636,  and  the  statue  of  Miles 
Morgan,  a  noted  soldier  of  that  early  time,  stands,  match- 
lock in  hand,  in  heroic  bronze  on  the  public  square.  Here- 
tofore I  have  referred  to  the  great  amount  of  firearms-mak- 
ing that  is  conducted  in  New  England,  where  all  kinds  of 
arms  are  made,  and  literally  for  all  the  world.  Springfield 
has  among  its  numerous  factories  two  enormous  military 


128  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

establishments.  I  have  noticed  for  a  good  while  past  that 
in  shooting  affrays  and  suicides,  as  well  as  in  those  unfor- 
tunate cases  where  somebody  "  didn't  know  it  was  loaded," 
the  weapon  is  usually  a  "  Smith  and  Wesson."  It  is  at 
Springfield  that  the  "Smith  and  AVesson  Company"  makes 
its  pistols,  in  works  that  seem  big  enough  to  provide  the 
means  of  speedily  annihilating  a  good  deal  of  the  surplus 
population  of  the  globe.  At  Springfield  also  is  established 
the  United  States  National  Armory.  This  enormous  fac- 
tory, which  makes  the  arms  for  the  United  States  army,  occu- 
pies an  extensive  enclosure  on  Armory  Hill,  up  to  which  the 
surface  gradually  slopes  from  the  river,  so  that  it  gives  an 
admirable  view  over  the  town.  The  chief  buildings  stand 
around  a  quadrangle,  making  a  pleasant  stretch  of  lawn 
with  regular  rows  of  trees  crossing  it.  A  few  cannon  are 
scattered  about  and  point  toward  the  entrance-gates,  to  give 
it  a  military  air,  and  hundreds  of  men  in  the  shops  are 
making  the  Springfield  breech-loading  rifle,  the  standard 
weapon  of  the  army.  All  the  parts  are  constructed  by 
automatic  machines,  some  of  which  are  most  ingenious 
mechanisms.  Very  intelligent  workmen  are  employed, 
and  many  an  old  man  is  here  who  has  grown  gray  in  the 
service,  "  rotation  in  ofiice "  not  being  fashionable  in  the 
armory.  These  Springfield  rifles  are  packed  twenty  in  a 
case,  and  most  of  them  are  forwarded  to  the  arsenal  at 
Rock  Island  on  the  Mississippi  River,  which  is  the  base  of 
supplies  for  the  Indian  country  and  the  Western  frontier, 
where  most  of  the  army  is  stationed.  The  laboring  day  in 
this  establishment  is  eight  hours,  from  8  A.  m.  to  5  p.  m., 
with  an  hour's  rest  at  noon,  but  all  wages  are  paid  by  the 
piece.  The  prosperity  of  the  town  largely  depends  upon 
the  armory,  which  employs  so  many  of  its  people,  and  has 
been  in  active  operation  almost  all  the  time  since  the  colo- 
nial days.  It  was  here  that  most  of  the  arms  were  made 
for  the  Revolutionary  army  and  the  cannon  were  cast  that 
helped  defeat  Burgoyne  at  Saratoga.     The  armory  as  seen 


HOLYOKE  AND  THE  HADLJ:Y  FALLS.    129 

now  was  mainly  the  product  of  the  late  war,  when  it  ran 
day  and  night  during  four  years,  and  at  times  employed 
over  three  thousand  men.  It  made  nearly  eight  hundred 
thousand  rifles  for  the  Union  armies.  The  arsenal,  a  large 
building  on  the  western  side  of  the  quadrangle,  has  been 
thus  described  by  Longfellow: 

"  This  is  the  arsenal.     From  floor  to  ceiling, 
Like  a  huge  organ,  rise  the  burnished  arms ; 
But  from  their  silent  pipes  no  anthem  pealing 
Startles  the  villages  with  strange  alarms. 

"  Ah  !  what  a  sound  will  rise — how  wild  and  dreary ! — 
When  the  death-angel  touches  those  swift  keys ! 
What  loud  lament  and  dismal  Miserere 

Will  mingle  with  their  awful  symphonies  !'* 

From  the  arsenal  tower  a  fine  view  is  had  over  the  busy 
town,  with  the  smoke  from  its  factory  chimneys  and  the 
roar  of  its  many  moving  railway-trains,  and  far  away  the 
rich  farms  of  its  bordering  meadows  and  the  hills  enclosing 
them  studded  with  villas  and  hamlets. 

HOLYOKE   AND   THE   HADLEY   FALLS. 

At  Springfield  and  Holyoke,  not  far  away,  are  made 
three-fourths  of  the  fine  papers  manufactured  in  the  United 
States.  The  valley  of  the  Connecticut  north  of  Sj^ring- 
field  is  another  hive  of  industry,  repeated  in  town  after 
town,  whose  mills  are  located  amid  some  of  the  finest 
scenery  in  New  England.  Winding  among  the  hills  in 
wayward  fashion,  the  river  receives  its  tributaries,  and  all 
the  water-courses  teem  with  factories.  From  the  eastern 
hills  the  Chicopee  flows  in,  the  falls  making  an  admirable 
water-power  that  turns  many  wheels,  giving  employment 
to  a  population  of  thirteen  thousand,  chiefly  workers  in 
cotton  and  wool,  brass  and  bronze.  Just  above,  in  the 
Connecticut  River,  are  the  Hadley  Falls,  the  greatest 
water-power  of  New  England  and  the  creator  of  the  town 


130  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

of  Holyoke.  In  a  distance  of  little  over  a  mile  the  river 
descends  in  falls  and  rapids  for  sixty  feet,  and  by  a  system 
of  canals  the  water  is  led  for  three  miles  along  the  banks, 
serving  paper-mills  and  other  factories.  There  are  twenty- 
six  paper-mills,  employing  more  than  four  thousand  people, 
and  these,  producing  the  finest  qualities,  are  at  the  same 
time  the  most  extensive  paper-makers  in  the  world.  There 
are  also  other  factories.  A  better  situation  could  not  have 
been  devised  for  this  industrious  town  of  over  thirty  thou- 
sand people,  whose  manufacturing  abilities  are  multiplied 
by  the  advantage  of  having  the  river  wind  around  them 
on  three  sides.  Yet  they  use  even  more  power  than  the 
water  gives,  judging  by  the  belching  smoke  from  the  tall 
chimney-stacks.  Thus  for  miles  along  this  picturesque 
valley  are  the  beauties  of  Nature  combined  with  the 
strongest  practical  demonstration  of  human  industry.  Ap- 
proaching Holyoke,  the  railway  on  which  we  are  travelling 
crosses  the  river  directly  into  the  centre  of  the  hive,  and 
then,  one  after  another,  spans  the  network  of  canals  lead- 
ing the  water  to  the  mill-wheels,  and  at  frequent  intervals 
displaying  their  foaming  outfalls.  The  great  descent  that 
is  available  enables  the  water  to  be  used  over  and  over 
again.  The  main  fall  in  the  river  has  a  descent  of  thirty 
feet,  and  to  prevent  erosion  is  covered  with  an  inclined 
apron  of  stout  timbers  sheathed  with  boiler  iron  and 
spiked  securely  to  the  rock-ledges  beneath.  Down  this 
smooth  surface  the  surplus  waters  gracefully  glide.  The 
stratified  layers  of  rock  protrude  in  great  masses  below  the 
fall,  while  above  the  character  of  the  scene  is  quickly 
changed  by  a  huge  boom  set  across  the  river  for  catching 
logs,  of  which  millions  are  thrown  into  the  upper  waters 
of  the  Connecticut. 

THE   LAND   OF   NONOTUCK. 

We  advance  above  Holyoke  into  scenery  growing  ever 
more  charming.     The  hills  have  come  nearer  the  river  and 


THE  LAND  OF  NONOTUCK.  131 

abruptly  rise  into  the  dignity  of  mountains.     The  river 
winds  about  their  bases,  and  after  flowing  to  the  westward 
along  the  foot  of  a  ridge  it  abruptly  turns,  and,  passing 
between  the  great  peaks,  winds  about  the  ridge  to  the  east- 
ward.    The  first  is  the  Mount  Tom  range,  and  the  other 
Mount   Holyoke,  having  between   them  the  Connecticut, 
which  passes  out  through  the  notch  from  the  extensive 
valley  above.     Within  the  gorge  the  stratified  rocks  thrust 
up  their  long  thin  edges  in  diagonal  dip  where  the  water 
has  worn  them  away,  and  the  scarred  faces  of  the  border- 
ing cliff  show  that  the  passage  had  been  rent  in  some  re- 
mote age  by  a  mighty  convulsion  of  nature.     Above  this 
gorge  a  vast  alluvial  plain  stretches  across  the  broad  val- 
ley, and  far  away  to  the  northward  ridge  after  ridge  crosses 
the  country  as  the  distant  hills  gradually  rise  into  higher 
elevations  beyond  Massachusetts.     This  is  the  fertile  land 
of  Nonotuck,  which  was  bought  from  its  Indian  owners  in 
1653  for  "  one  hundred  fathoms  of  wampum  and  ten  coats." 
Here  is  built  K^orthampton,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  vil- 
lages of  the  Connecticut  Valley.     The  fairest  fields  sur- 
round it,  with  thrifty  farmers  cultivating  their  rich  bottom- 
lands, and  the  splendid  outlook  these  people  have  in  front 
of  their  doors  is  the  glorious  panorama  of  the  noble  heights 
of  Holyoke  and  Nonotuck  in  the  Mount  Tom  range,  with 
the  river  flowing  away  between  them.     Solomon  Stoddart 
was  the  sturdy  Puritan  pastor  who  ruled  the  flock  at  Nono- 
tuck for  fifty-six  years,  the  village  being  surrounded  for 
protection  by  a  palisade  and  wall.     The  little  church  in 
which  he  preached  measured  eighteen  by  twenty-six  feet, 
and  was  built  in  1655  at  a  cost  of  seventy  dollars,  the  con- 
gregation being  called  to  meeting  armed  and  by  the  blasts 
of  a  trumpet : 

"  Each  man  equipped  on  Sunday  morn 
With  psalm-book,  shot,  and  powder-horn, 
And  looked  in  form,  as  all  must  grant, 
Like  th'  ancient,  true  Church  militant." 


132  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

This  reoowned  pastor  was  a  man  of  majestic  appearance, 
and  as  good  a  fighter  as  he  was  preacher.  He  never  hesi- 
tated to  lead  his  people  in  their  Indian  wars,  and  once  he 
rode  into  an  ambush,  but  the  awestruck  savages,  impressed 
by  his  noble  bearing,  hesitated  to  shoot  him,  saying  to  their 
French  allies,  "  That  is  the  Englishmen's  god."  The  pres- 
ent stone  church  is  the  fifth  that  has  been  built  on  the  orig- 
inal site.  During  nearly  a  quarter  century  the  noted  Jon- 
athan Edwards — the  greatest  preacher  and  metaphysician 
of  his  time — was  the  Northampton  pastor,  but  he  was  dis- 
missed in  1750  because,  owing  to  the  growing  laxity  of  the 
Church,  he  insisted  upon  "  a  higher  and  purer  standard  of 
admission  to  the  communion-table."  Even  in  lovely  North- 
ampton factories  appear,  as  in  the  other  towns  along  the 
romantic  Connecticut. 

The  level  land  of  Nonotuck,  stretching  to  the  northward, 
raises  much  tobacco,  for  among  the  strange  mutations  of 
advancing  time  is  that  which  makes  the  descendants  of  the 
framers  of  the  savage  "  blue  laws  "  against  tobacco  now 
get  their  livelihood  by  its  cultivation.  It  is  here  a  profit- 
able crop  usually,  but  the  growers  say  its  development  'is 
risky  and  uncertain,  the  sale  being  subject  to  the  whim  of 
the  market,  which,  whenever  there  comes  a  good  yield  of 
Connecticut  tobacco  (a  light  leaf),  is  generally  made  by 
the  dealers  to  prefer  a  dark  leaf.  The  Connecticut  River 
winds  in  wide,  circular  sweeps  among  the  fields  and  mead- 
ows of  this  prolific  valley,  but  seems  to  make  little  progress 
as  it  goes  around  great  curves  of  miles  in  circuit.  Upon 
an  isthmus  thus  formed,  with  the  huge  loop  of  the  river 
stretching  far  to  the  westward,  stands  "  Old  Hadley."  The 
Connecticut  has  made  a  five-mile  circuit  to  accomplish 
barely  one  mile  of  distance,  and  across  the  level  isthmus 
from  the  river  above  to  the  river  below,  stretching  through 
the  village,  is  the  noted  "  Hadley  Street,"  the  handsomest 
highway  of  New  England  in  natural  adornments.  Over 
three  hundred  feet  wide,  this  street  is  lined  by  two  double 


MOUNT  HOLYOKE.  133 

rows  of  noble  elms,  with  a  broad  expanse  of  greenest  lawn 
between,  and  nearly  a  thousand  ancient  trees  arching  their 
graceful  branches  above  it.  This  quiet  street  has  a  perfec- 
tion of  greensward,  for  it  is  almost  untravelled.  Its  inhab- 
itants grow  tobacco  and  make  brooms.  Hadley  was  the 
final  home  and  burying-place  of  Goffe  and  Whalley,  the 
reo-icides,  who  fled  here  from  New  Haven.  When  their 
house  was  pulled  down,  it  is  said  the  bones  of  Whalley  were 
found  entombed  just  outside  the  cellar- wall.  It  was  the 
house  of  the  pastor,  and  they  were  concealed  in  it  fifteen 
years,  their  presence  being  known  to  only  three  persons. 
It  is  said  that  once  during  their  hiding  Indians  attacked 
the  town,  and  after  a  sharp  fight  the  people  gave  way,  when 
there  suddenly  appeared  "  an  ancient  man,  with  hoary  locks, 
of  a  most  venerable  and  dignified  aspect,"  who  rallied  them 
to  a  fresh  onslaught  and  scattered  the  Indians  in  all  direc- 
tions. He  then  disappeared,  and  the  inhabitants  attributed 
their  deliverance  to  "  a  militant  angel."  This  was  Goffe, 
and  the  tale  is  "  Old  Hadley's  "  chief  legend.  "  Fighting 
Joe  Hooker"*  was  a  native  of  Hadley,  and  he  probably 
had  his  first  day-dreams  of  war  and  battle  under  the  mag- 
nificent elms  of  Old  Hadley's  famous  street. 


XIX. 

MOUNT  HOLYOKE. 


The  famous  "  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary "  is  the  most 
noted  institution  of  Central  Massachusetts.  This  female 
collegiate  school  is  at  South  Hadley,  almost  under  the 
shadow  of  the  mountain  amid  magnificent  scenery,  and 
has  been  in  existence  more  than  half  a  century.  It  has 
educated  many  missionary  women  for  their  labors  in  dis- 
tant lands,  and  continues  its  successful  career  with  a  fame 


134  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR. 

that  is  far-reaching.  But  we  have  not  time  to  linger,  and 
start  to  make  the  ascent  of  the  mountain.  Through  quiet* 
Old  Hadley  and  past  its  magnificent,  but  silent  and  almost 
deserted,  street,  and  across  the  tobacco-plantations  and 
meadows  of  the  broad  intervale,  rounding  a  bend  of  the 
swiftly-flowing  river,  we  go  along  toward  the  abrupt  face 
of  Mount  Holyoke,  its  notched  and  round-topped  crags 
stretching  far  off  in  the  range  to  the  eastward.  An  in- 
clined-plane railway  ascends  the  steep  mountain-side  to  the 
top  of  the  highest  peak.  Across  the  river  to  the  westward 
is  the  twin  range  of  Mount  Tom,  with  the  peak  of  Nono- 
tuck  forming  its  eastern  buttress  where  the  river  flows  out 
of  the  valley.  Tradition  says  this  broad  and  fertile  plain, 
spreading  almost  to  the  northern  Massachusetts  boundary, 
was  once  a  lake,  with  the  outlet  toward  the  west  behind 
the  Mount  Tom  range,  until  the  waters  broke  a  passage 
through  the  ridge  and  thus  made  the  present  Connecticut- 
River  route  to  the  sea.  These  guardian  peaks  of  Tom  and 
Holyoke  bear  the  names  of  two  pioneers  of  the  valley  who 
are  said  to  have  first  discovered  the  pass.  The  origin  of 
Mount  Holyoke  has  evidently  been  volcanic,  and  it  is  built 
up  of  trap  rock,  lifting  its  columned  masses  abruptly  from 
the  level  floor  of  the  valley,  and  being  without  foothills  to 
dwarf  its  great  elevation.  There  is,  consequently,  given 
from  the  summit  a  grand  and  unobstructed  view  entirely 
around  the  horizon,  for  the  peak  is  isolated.  This  view, 
spreading  almost  from  Long  Island  Sound  northward  to 
the  White  Mountains  of  New  Hampshire,  and  from  the 
Berkshire  Hills  in  the  west  to  the  cloud-capped  mountains 
Monadnock  and  Wachusett  fifty  miles  to  the  eastward,  is 
regarded  as  the  finest  in  New  England.  The  broad  and 
highly  cultivated  valley  of  the  Connecticut,  with  its  wind- 
ing, wayward  stream  flowing  apparently  in  all  directions 
over  the  rich  bottom-lands  that  are  cut  up  into  such  di- 
minutive farms  and  fields  like  so  many  "  plaided  meadows," 
gives  a  charm  that  is  lacking  in  most  other  mountain-views. 


MOUNT  HOLYOKE.  185 

To  the  southward  are  the  towns  of  Holvoke  and  Spring- 
field, through  which  we  have  come,  and  beyond  them,  in 
the  distance,  the  gilded  dome  of  the  Hartford  Capitol  glis- 
tening under  the  sunlight,  with  far  away  the  dim  gray  out- 
lines of  the  New  Haven  East  and  West  Rocks  down  along- 
side the  sound.  Moving  around  toward  the  west,  the  view 
gradually  rises  from  the  Connecticut  River  Valley  into  the 
high  hills  of  Berkshire  crossing  the  western  horizon. 

Spreading  ofi*  toward  the  north-west  is  the  broadening 
intervale,  displaying  many  miles  of  level  land,  with  charm- 
ing Northampton  nestling  amid  its  foliage,  while  beyond 
the  expanse  of  garden-land  is  a  hilly  region  terminating 
finally  in  the  Hoosacs,  and  behind  them  the  misty  height 
of  Old  Graylock,  over  forty  miles  away.  Almost  beneath 
our  feet,  in  the  foreground,  is  the  great  "ox-bow"  of  the 
Connecticut,  where  the  river  used  to  flow  around  a  circuit 
of  nearly  four  miles  and  accomplished  only  one  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  of  actual  distance,  until  an  ice-freshet 
recently  broke  through  the  narrow  isthmus  and  made  a 
straight  channel  across  it.  But  nearly  all  the  romance  is 
taken  out  of  this  liquid  "  ox-bow  "  by  its  being  crammed 
full  of  floating  logs  awaiting  a  market.  To  the  northward 
the  river  sweeps  around  more  curves,  also  well  supplied 
with  logs,  and  here,  almost  beneath  us,  is  "  Old  Hadley," 
with  its  wide  and  noble  elm-bordered  street,  looking  like  a 
half  dozen  green  and  golden-hued  streaks  across  the  nar- 
row level  neck  of  land  beyond  which  the  river  makes  its 
wide  and  graceful  loop.  Farther  northward  can  be  traced 
the  repeated  river-reaches,  with  intervening  ridges  of  hills 
partly  hiding  them,  and  the  abrupt  Sugarloaf  Mountain 
rising  in  solitary  grandeur  over  Deerfield.  This  portion 
of  the  valley  was  the  theatre  of  some  of  the  bloodiest 
tragedies  of  the  remorseless  "  King  Philip's  AVar,"  of 
which  we  learnt  much  in  our  school  days.  That  im- 
placable chief  of  the  Narragansetts  in  his  attack  upon 
the  settlers  made  the  tall  Sus:arloaf  his  lookout  station, 


136  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR 

whence  he  directed  the  movements  of  his  warriors,  and 
a  crag  on  the  top  is  yet  called  *'  King  Philip's  Chair." 
In  the  north-east  rises  cloud-capped  Monadnock,  with 
the  distant  Green  and  White  Mountains  of  Vermont 
and  New  Hampshire  showing  up  in  rows  of  peaks  all 
about  the  northern  horizon.  The  eastern  view  is  mainly- 
over  successive  ranges  of  forest-clad,  rough-looking  hills, 
making  a  wilderness  almost  without  habitation,  dissolv- 
ing finally  into  more  farm-land  to  the  south-east  and 
into  the  river  valley  again  to  the  south,  where  the  glis- 
tening stream  flows  in  placid  beauty  onward  toward  the 
sea.  Such  is  the  glorious  view  from  this  magnificent 
mountain-top,  standing  almost  in  the  centre  of  Massa- 
chusetts and  giving  an  outlook  over  four  New  England 
States. 

PENETRATING   THE   HOOSACS. 

On  its  eastern  slopes  the  Hoosac  range  sends  down 
various  streams  through  wild  and  romantic  gorges  into  the 
Connecticut  Valley,  and  one  of  these  is  Deerfield  River, 
debouching  some  distance  north  of  Mount  Holyoke.  Here 
is  the  village  of  Old  Deerfield,  whose  streets  often  ran  with 
blood  in  the  Indian  wars,  and  whose  young  men  were  then 
described  by  the  quaint  Puritan  chronicler  as  "  the  very 
flower  of  Essex  county,  none  of  whome  were  ashamed  to 
speak  with  the  enemy  in  the  gate."  The  Sugarloaf  and 
Mount  Toby  are  its  guardian  peaks,  and  the  Fitchburg 
Railroad  from  Boston,  coming  across  the  valley  and  through 
the  village,  takes  advantage  of  the  wild  and  winding  caiion 
of  its  mountain-torrent  to  ascend  the  grade  westward  to  the 
wall  of  the  Hoosac  Mountain,  which  for  years  obstructed 
its  farther  journey.  Tliis  railway  is  laid  high  upon  the 
side  of  the  bold  and  charming  Deerfield  gorge,  spanning 
its  tributaries,  and  following  a  sinuous  path  carved  out  of 
the  rocks,  while  here  and  there  pretty  cascades  tumble 
down  the  mountain-side  to  the  wildly-rushing  stream  below. 


PENETKATING  THE  HOOSACS.  137 

The   line   is   constructed   in   this  way   through   the   most 
romantic  portion  of  the  picturesque  defile,  beyond  which 
the  valley  somewhat  broadens,  and  then   the  stream-bed 
rises  more  nearly  to  the  level  of  the  railway,  the  foaming 
waters  being  of  the  dark  and  transparent  amber  color  made 
by  the  pines  and  hemlocks,  while  the  torrent  rushes  over  a 
succession   of  rocky  ledges   set   on   edge,   sprinkled   with 
myriads   of   rounded   boulders    that    have   been   brought 
down  by  freshets.     Frowning  peaks  and  ridges  rise  high 
above  us  in  this  complete  wilderness.     Within   the  heart 
of  the   defile,  however,  is   a   pleasant  village,  where   the 
stream  darts  down  a  series  of  cataracts  and  rapids  with  a 
descent  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  this  being  Shelburne 
Falls.    The  river  roars  through  a  channel  worn  deeply  into 
the  rocks,  and  plunges  down  successive  falls  like  an  irregular 
and  badly  broken  stairway.     Here,  amid  all  this  natural 
magnificence,  are  planted  more  prosaic  mills,  making  cut- 
lery, locks,   and   gimlets,  while  the  neighbors  tend  their 
sheep   and   "tap"    the   numerous    maple   trees  for  sugar. 
We  ascend  the  gorge  farther,  and  find  in  each  brief  broad- 
ening expanse  of  valley,  the  little  hamlet  and  church-spire 
among  the  trees,  with  towering  mountains   looking  down 
upon  them.     One  of  these  sequestered  villages,  Buckland, 
was  the  birthplace,  in  1797,  of  Mary  Lyon,  the   devout 
and  noted  teacher  who  founded  Mount  Holyoke  Seminary. 
Onward  among  the  savage  peaks,  the  line  crossing  the  rapid 
winding  torrent  to  seek  the  best  route  amid  hills  that  rise 
two  thousand  feet  above  the  water,  the  train  swiftly  rolls 
until  it  reaches  a  place  where  the  mountain-wall  stands  up 
directly  across  the  passage.     The  Deerfield  River,  coming 
doAvn  from  the  north,  sweeps  grandly  around  a  loop ;  the 
railway  crosses  high  above  it,  where  the  sloping  banks  are 
covered  with  the  broken  rocks  cast  out  from  tunnel-borings, 
and  suddenly  the  car  rushes  into  the  famous  "  Hoosac  Tun- 
nel," the  longest  on  this  continent.    It  took  twenty  years  to 
bore  this  tunnel,  which  was  made  by  the  State  Government 


138  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

of  Massachusetts  to  secure  the  shortest  route  and  easiest 
gradients,  and  also  a  competitive  line  between  Boston  and 
the  West ;  and  the  work  cost  sixteen  million  dollars :  it  is 
nearly  five  miles  in  length. 

NORTH   ADAMS   AND   PITTSFIELD. 

There  is  a  ten  minutes'  interval  of  swift  movement 
through  the  great  tunnel,  the  darkness  dissipated  by  hun- 
dreds of  electric  lights,  and  then  the  train  emerges  on  the 
western  side  of  the  mountain,  running  down  the  slope  into 
the  valley  of  the  little  Hoosac  River,  with  the  towering 
Taghkanic  range  beyond.  This  latter  to  the  northward 
rises  into  the  double  peaks  of  Old  Graylock,  the  monarch 
of  the  Berkshire  Hills,  overlooking  the  town  of  North 
Adams.  The  scarred  surfaces,  exposed  in  huge,  bare  places 
far  up  their  sides,  show  the  white-marble  formation  of  these 
hills.  North  Adams  is  noted  as  having  been  the  first  place 
on  the  Atlantic  seaboard  where  "  Chinese  cheap  labor  "  was 
employed,  these  Celestials  having  been  imported  to  work  in 
its  shoe-shops  in  consequence  of  a  troublesome  strike.  It  is 
a  wealthy  manufacturing  village,  and  the  chief  settlement 
of  Northern  Berkshire.  The  busy  Hoosac  turns  the  mill- 
wheels,  and  at  the  head  of  the  main  street  is  its  group  of 
churches,  with  the  memorial  statue  of  a  soldier  standing 
among  them,  recalling  the  hite  war.  About  a  mile  west  of 
North  Adams,  down  the  Hoosac,  at  a  road-crossing,  was 
the  site  of  old  Fort  Massachusetts,  the  "  Thermopylae  of 
New  England  "  in  the  French  War,  where,  in  1746,  its  gar- 
rison of  twenty-two  men  held  the  fort  two  days  against  an 
attacking  force  of  nine  hundred :  they  killed  forty-seven, 
wounded  many  more,  and  only  yielded  when  every  grain 
of  powder  was  gone.  We  turn  southward  along  the  Hoo- 
sac through  this  picturesque  valley,  and  journey  up  the 
narrow,  crooked  stream  with  its  frequent  dams,  the  mills 
working  the  waters  for  all  they  are  worth.  On  either  hand 
the  higher  ridges  enclose  the  view — that  to  the  westward 


NORTH  ADAMS  AND  PITTSFILD.  139 

being  the  barrier  separating  from  the  Hudson  Valley  in 
New  York,  while  "  Old  Graylock,  cloud-girdled  on  his  pur- 
ple throne,"  stands  guardian  at  the  northern  entrance.  The 
journey  passes  many  mills,  and  it  seems  difficult  to  imagine 
how  the  villages  have  managed  to  find  room  enough  to  stand 
amid  the  encroaching  hills.  These  settlements  are  pictur- 
esque, but  seem  in  a  sort  of  decadence,  the  migration  of 
their  people  to  the  West  having  curtailed  growth.  The 
town  of  Adams  is  passed,  having  a  few  hundred  population, 
the  most  famous  of  its  inhabitants  being  Miss  Susan  B. 
Anthony.  At  times  the  valley  broadens,  with  the  Hoosac 
meandering  among  the  fields,  but  the  mills  have  chimney- 
stacks  and  coal-piles,  showing  that  steam  has  to  suj^plement 
the  water-power.  Sheep  and  cattle  graze  and  villas  abound, 
and  here  is  Cheshire,  noted  for  its  cheeses,  while  not  far 
away  the  late  lamented  humorist  "  Josh  Billings  "  was  born, 
then  named  H.  W.  Shaw  before  he  wandered  away  to  be- 
come an  auctioneer  and  lecturer  under  his  popular  sobri- 
quet. Soon  we  lose  the  narrow,  wayward  Hoosac  in  the 
reservoir  made  of  its  head-waters  that  they  may  better 
serve  the  many  mills  below. 

Almost  embracing  the  sources  of  the  diminutive  Hoosac, 
with  its  branching  head-streams  coming  out  of  many  pretty 
lakes  and  springs,  originates  the  Housatonic  River,  its  In- 
dian name  meaning  the  "  flowing,  winding  waters."  It 
flows  south,  as  the  other  does  north,  and  this  part  of  the 
valley  is  an  elevated  region  of  sloughs  and  lakes,  from 
which  the  watershed  tapers  off"  in  both  directions.  Upon 
this  high  plateau,  more  than  a  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level,  is  located  Pittsfield,  the  county-seat  of  Berkshire, 
thus  named  in  honor  of  William  Pitt  the  elder  in  1761. 
The  centre  of  the  town,  as  throughout  New  Ens-land,  is 
the  public  green,  here  called  the  "  Heart  of  Berkshire." 
Upon  it  stands  Launt  Thompson's  famous  bronze  statue 
of  the  "  Color-bearer,"  cast  from  cannon  given  by  Congress 
— a  spirited  young  soldier  in  fatigue  uniform  holding  aloft 


140  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

the  flag.  This  statue,  which  is  so  much  admired,  has  been 
reproduced  upon  the  Gettysburg  battle-field  to  mark  the 
position  of  the  Massachusetts  troops.  It  is  the  monument  of 
five  officers  and  ninety  men  of  Pittsfield  killed  in  the  war, 
and  at  the  dedication  appro23riate  to  it  were  read  Whittier's 
eloquent  lines : 

"A  voice  from  lips  whereon  the  coal  from  Freedom's  shrine  hath 
been 
Thrilled  as  but  yesterday  the  breasts  of  Berkshire's  mountain-men ; 
The  echoes  of  that  solemn  voice  are  sadly  lingering  still 
In  all  our  sunny  valleys,  on  every  wind-swept  hill. 

"And  sandy  Barnstable  rose  up,  wet  with  the  salt  sea-spray; 
And  Bristol  sent  her  answering  shout  down  Narragansett  Bay ; 
Along  the  broad  Connecticut  old  Hampden  felt  the  thrill, 
And  the  cheer  of  Hampshire's  woodmen  swept  down  from  Holyoke 
Hill: 

"'No  slave-hunt  in  our  borders — no  pirate  on  our  strand! 
No  fetters  in  the  Bay  State— no  slave  upon  our  land  !'  "  * 

Around  this  celebrated  green  are  the  churches  and  pub- 
lic buildings  of  the  town,  while  not  far  away  a  spacious  and 
comfortable  mansion  is  pointed  out  that  was  for  many  years 
the  summer  home  of  Longfellow  and  the  j^lace  where  he 
found  "  The  Old  Clock  on  the  Stairs."  Upon  one  of  the 
buildings  near  this  green  a  modest,  weather-beaten  sign 
bears  the  well-known  name  of  Henry  L.  Dawes,  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Senator,  who  lives  at  Pittsfield  in  one  of  its 
most  unpretentious  houses,  showing  that  his  statesman- 
ship has  not  produced  him  great  wealth.  As  everywhere 
else,  mills  make  much  of  the  trade  of  Pittsfield,  and  the 
trains  of  the  Boston  and  Albany  Kailroad   roll  through 

*  Whittier's  lyric  "Massachusetts  to  Virginia,"  inspired  by  the 
Latimer  fugitive-slave  case  in  1842,  when  an  owner  from  Norfolk 
claimed  the  fugitive  in  Boston,  and  was  awarded  him  by  the  courts ; 
but  so  much  excitement  was  created  that  the  slave's  emancipation 
was  purchased  for  four  hundred  dollars,  the  owner  gladly  taking 
the  money  rather  than  pursue  the  case. 


THE  BEKKSHIKE  HILLS.  141 

it  on  their  journeys.  Its  highways  in  every  direction  lead 
out  to  lovely  scenes  upon  mountain-slopes  or  the  banks  of 
lakes.  This  region  was  the  Indian  domain  of  Poutoosuc, "  the 
haunt  of  the  winter  deer,"  and  this  is  the  name  of  one  of 
the  prettiest  of  the  adjacent  lakes.  Onota  is  another  of 
exquisite  contour,  a  romantic  lakelet  elevated  eighteen  hun- 
dred feet  which  gives  Pittsfield  its  water-supply.  Berry 
Pond  is  here  with  its  margin  of  silvery  sand  strewn  with 
delicate  fibrous  mica  and  snowy  quartz.  Here  are  the 
"  Opes,"  as  the  beautiful  vista  views  are  called  along  the 
vales  opening  into  the  adjacent  hills.  One  of  these  to  the 
southward  overlooks  the  lakelet  of  the  "  Lily  Bowl."  Here 
lived  Herman  Melville,  the  rover  of  the  seas,  when  he  wrote 
his  sea-novels.  The  chief  of  these  vales,  however,  is  north- 
west of  Pittsfield,  the  "  Ope  of  Promise,"  giving  a  view 
over  the  "  Promised  Land."  This  tract,  we  are  told,  was 
named  with  grim  Yankee  humor,  because  the  original 
grant  of  the  title  was  "  long  promised,  yet  longer  de- 
layed." 


XX. 

THE   BERKSHIKE  HILLS. 


We  have  come  into  the  "  Heart  of  Berkshire,"  the  region 
of  exquisite  loveliness  that  has  no  peer  in  New  England. 
Berkshire  is  the  western  county  of  Massachusetts,  cover- 
ing a  surface  about  fifty  miles  long,  extending  entirely 
across  the  State  and  about  twenty  miles  wide.  Two  moun- 
tain-ranges bound  its  intermediate  valley,  and  these  make 
the  noted  "  Berkshire  Hills "  that  have  been  the  theme 
of  warmest  praises  from  the  greatest  American  poets  and 
authors.  Their  song  and  story  have  been  sung  and  writ- 
ten by  Longfellow,  Whittier,  Bryant,  Hawthorne,  Beecher, 


142  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

and  many  others,  and  are  interwoven  with  the  best  Amer- 
ican literature.  It  is  a  region  of  myriad  lakes  and  moun- 
tain-peaks, of  lovely  vales  and  delicious  views,  and  its  pure 
waters  and  exhilarating  air,  combined  with  the  exquisite 
scenery,  have  made  it  most  attractive  to  tourists.  Beecher 
wrote  that  it  "  is  yet  to  be  as  celebrated  as  the  Lake  Dis- 
trict of  England  or  the  hill-country  of  Palestine."  One 
writer  described  the  Berkshire  "  holiday  hills  lifting  their 
wreathed  and  crowned  heads  in  the  resplendent  days  of 
autumn."  Another  says  it  is  "  a  region  of  hill  and  valley, 
mountain  and  lake,  beautiful  rivers  and  laughing  brooks." 
Miss  Sedgwick  writes  of  the  "  rich  valleys  and  smiling  hill- 
sides, and  deep  set  in  their  hollows  lovely  lakes  sparkle  like 
gems."  Fanny  Kemble  long  lived  at  Lenox  in  the  most 
beautiful  part  of  this  region,  and  she  wished  to  be  buried 
in  its  churchyard  on  the  hill,  saying,  "  I  will  not  rise  to 
trouble  any  one  if  they  will  let  me  sleep  here.  I  will  only 
ask  to  be  permitted  once  in  a  while  to  raise  my  head  and 
look  out  upon  the  glorious  scene."  It  is  to  the  Berkshire 
Hills  that  visitors  go  to  see  the  autumnal  tints  of  the  forests 
in  their  greatest  perfection.  The  abundant  rains  of  last 
season  made  the  foliage  unusually  luxuriant,  and  much  of 
it  remained  vigorous  after  parts  had  turned  by  ripening 
rather  than  by  frosts.  This  placed  an  unusual  proportion 
of  green  in  the  picture  to  enhance  the  olives  of  the  birch, 
the  grayish  pinks  of  the  ash,  the  scarlets  of  the  maple,  the 
deep  reds  of  the  oak,  and  the  bright  yellows  of  the  poplar. 
These  in  combination  made  a  magnificent  contrast  of  bril- 
liant leaf-coloring,  and  while  it  lasted  the  mantle  of  purple 
and  gold,  of  brilliant  flame  and  resplendent  green,  with  the 
almost  dazzling  yellows  that  covered  the  mountain-slopes, 
gave  one  of  the  richest  feasts  of  color  ever  seen.  Of  this 
Berkshire  magnificence  of  autumn  Beecher  writes :  "  Have 
the  evening  clouds,  suffused  with  sunset,  dropped  down  and 
become  fixed  into  solid  forms?  Have  the  rainbows  that 
followed  autumn  storms  faded  upon  the  mountains  and  left 


LENOX.  143 

their  mantles  there  ?  What  a  mighty  chorus  of  colors  do 
the  trees  roll  down  the  valleys,  up  the  hillsides,  and  over 
the  mountains !" 

LENOX. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  natural  grandeur  is  Lenox,  eight 
miles  south  of  Pittsfield — the  "  gem  among  the  mountains," 
as  Silliman  called  it — standing  upon  a  high  ridge  at  twelve 
hundred  feet  elevation,  and  rising  far  above  the  general 
floor  of  the  valley,  the  mountain-ridges  bounding  it  upon 
either  hand,  here  about  five  miles  apart,  having  pleasant 
intervales  between.  Summer  and  autumn  sojourners  greatly 
enlarge  the  population  when  hundreds  of  happy  pilgrims 
come  hither  from  the  large  cities,  most  of  them  having 
their  own  villas.  The  slopes  and  crests  of  all  the  hills 
round  about  Lenox  are  crowned  by  mansions,  many  of 
them  costly  and  imposing,  adding  to  the  charms  of  the 
pleasant  landscape.  At  the  head  of  the  chief  street,  the 
highest  point  of  the  village,  stands  the  old  Puritan  Con- 
gregational church,  with  its  white  w^ooden  belfry  and  a 
view  all  around  the  compass.  It  brings  back  many  mem- 
ories of  the  good  old  times  before  fashion  sought  Lenox 
and  worshipped  at  its  shrine : 

"  They  had  rigid  manners  and  homespun  breeches 

In  the  good  old  times  ; 
They  hunted  Indians  and  hung  up  witches 

In  the  good  old  times ; 
They  toiled  and  moiled  from  sun  to  sun, 
And  they  counted  sinful  all  kinds  of  fun, 
And  they  went  to  meeting  armed  with  a  gun, 

In  the  good  old  times." 

To  the  northward,  seen  from  this  famous  old  church  be- 
yond many  swelling  knolls  and  ridges,  rises  Old  Graylock, 
looking  like  a  recumbent  elephant  as  the  clouds  overhang 
its  twin   rounded  peaks  thirty  miles   away.      From   the 


144  AN  EASTERN  TOUE. 

church-door,  facing  the  south,  there  is  such  a  panorama 
that  even  without  the  devotion  of  the  inspired  Psalmist 
one  might  prefer  to  stand  in  the  door  of  the  Lord's  house 
rather  than  dwell  in  tent,  tabernacle,  or  mansion.  This 
glorious  view  is  over  the  two  valleys,  one  on  either  hand, 
their  bordering  ridges  covered  with  the  fairest  foliage.  To 
the  distant  south-west,  where  the  Housatonic  Valley  stretches 
away  in  winding  courses,  the  stream  flowing  at  times  in  way- 
ward fashion  across  the  view,  there  are  many  ridges  of  hills, 
finally  fading  into  the  horizon  beyond  the  Connecticut 
boundary.  The  hillside  is  covered  with  the  churchyard 
graves,  and  then  slopes  down  toward  the  village  with  its 
galaxy  of  villas,  among  which  little  lakes  glint  in  the  sun- 
light of  a  bright  morning.  It  is  no  wonder  that  Fanny 
Kemble  desired  to  be  buried  here,  for  she  could  not  have 
found  a  fairer  resting-place  on  earth,  though  Beecher  in 
his  enthusiasm  hoped  that  in  her  life  to  come  she  would 
"  behold  one  so  much  fairer  that  this  scenic  beauty  shall 
fade  to  a  shadow." 

THE   STOCKBRIDGE   BOWL. 

The  broad  grass-bordered  main  street  of  Lenox,  under 
its  rows  of  stately  overarching  elms,  leads  southward  down 
the  hill  among  the  villas  that  give  the  place  its  greatest 
charm.  The  "  boom  "  in  the  picturesque  has  put  up  land- 
prices  here  to  twenty  thousand  dollars  an  acre  in  some 
cases,  and  the  deep  valleys  around  the  village,  with  their 
knolls  and  slopes,  give  such  grand  outlooks  that  buildings 
can  be  placed  almost  anywhere  with  advantage.  Some  are 
very  costly,  and  all  are  named,  the  Yankee  ingenuity  re- 
producing some  of  the  exhilarating  air  of  Lenox  in  these 
names.  Thus  we  have  "Breezy  Corner,"  " Windyside " 
and  "Gusty  Gables,"  with  "Cozy  Nook"  and  "Nestle- 
down."  "  Glad  Hill "  overlooks  a  charming  lake.  South- 
ward of  Lenox  one  comes  upon  the  outer  elevated  rim  of 
the  "Stockbridge  Bowl,"  and  can  look  down  within  this 


THE  STOCKBRIDGE  BOWL.  145 

grand  amphitheatre  upon  Lake  Mahkeenac  nestling  there, 
with  Monument  Mountain  closing  the  distant  view  beyond. 
Villas  perch  upon  all  the  terraces  and  knolls  surrounding 
this  famous  "Bowl,"  and  one  modest  and  older  mansion 
overlooks  it  among  so  much  m.odern  magnificence — Haw- 
thorne's "  House  of  the  Seven  Gables."  Here  he  lived  for 
many  years  in  a  quaint  little  red  wooden  house,  looking  as 
if  built  in  bits,  and  having  a  glorious  view  for  miles  away 
across  the  lake.  Over  the  hills  we  go,  up  and  down  the 
terraces  that  widely  encircle  the  "  Bowl,"  now  under  arch- 
ing canopies  of  elms,  then  through  the  foiest,  past  little 
lakelets,  enjoying  fascinating  views  in  all  directions,  around 
the  broad  basin  formed  by  the  hills  as  we  encircle  the  pla- 
cid lake.  Red-topped  and  white-topped  villas  occupy  all 
the  points  of  vantage.  Here  live  the  New  York  bankers 
and  merchants  in  palaces  that  have  cost  princely  sums,  and 
to  this  enchanting  place  hie  the  wealthy  to  rest  after  the 
seashore  and  Saratoga  seasons.  From  one  of  the  most 
noted  of  these  villas,  on  "  Lanier  Hill "  high  above  the 
"  Bowl "  and  its  surrounding  vales,  we  can  overlook  sev- 
eral lakes  and  study  the  rock-ribbed  structure  of  this 
charming  region,  thrust  up  in  crags  and  layers  of  white 
marble,  while  the  walls  and  stone-work  of  the  buildings 
are  also  mostly  white,  contrasting  prettily  with  the  green 
sward  and  foliage.  Here  is  scanned  the  Laurel  Lake,  and 
the  village  of  Lee  beyond  nestling  in  the  deep  valley  along 
the  winding  Housatonic.  Its  tall  white  church-spire  rises 
among  the  trees  as  we  descend  steeply  upon  it.  The  sur- 
rounding slopes,  as  elsewhere,  are  covered  with  villas,  and 
the  marble-quarries  and  paper-mills  have  made  the  fortune 
of  the  town.  These  paper-mills  do  a  great  work,  but  the 
Lee  quarries  are  the  most  noted  in  America.  The  pure 
white  marble,  cut  out  of  deep  fissures  alongside  the  Housa- 
tonic, has  built  some  of  our  most  famous  structures,  includ- 
ing the  Capitol  at  Washington,  our  Philadelphia  City  Hall, 
and  the  Drexel  Building. 
10 


146  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 


THE   ANCIENT   MUHHEKANEWS. 

The  Stockbridge  village  is  across  an  intervening  ridge 
beyond  the  "  Bowl."  The  wayward  Housatonic  encircles 
Lee  and  flows  athwart  the  valley  toward  the  west,  thus 
making  a  meadow  on  which  this  pretty  hamlet  stands. 
Turkeys  walk  about  and  pumpkins  lie  in  the  fields  pre- 
paring for  the  feast  of  turkey  and  pumpkin  pie  at  the 
autumn  Thanksgiving — the  great  Yankee  holiday  that  has 
spread  all  over  the  country.  Monument  Mountain  and 
Bear  Mountain  guard  the  smaller  "  bowl,"  into  which  we 
now  come,  with  Stockbridge  scattered  through  it  upon  the 
winding  river-banks.  "  Field's  Hill "  overlooks  the  town, 
where  Cyrus  W.  Field  and  his  brothers  were  born  and  still 
have  villas  on  the  paternal  estate.  The  quiet  town  seems 
almost  asleep  beneath  its  embowering  elms  under  the  rim 
of  the  hills  upon  the  river-bordered  plain.  It  was  the  In- 
dian village  of  "  Housatonnuc  "  in  colonial  days,  and  upon 
its  green  street  stands  a  solid  square  stone  tower,  with  a 
clock  and  chimes,  bearing  the  inscription,  "  This  memorial 
marks  the  spot  where  stood  the  little  church  in  which  John 
Sergeant  preached  to  the  Indians  in  1739."  It  was  the  gift 
of  David  Dudley  Field  to  his  birthplace.  The  "  Muhhe- 
kanew  "  tribe,  or  "  the  people  of  the  great  moving  waters," 
afterward  called  the  Stockbridge  Indians,  were  early  dis- 
covered by  the  Puritans,  and  Sergeant  was  sent  a  mission- 
ary among  them,  laboring  fifteen  years.  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards, the  renowned  metaphysician,  succeeded  him  after 
the  differences  with  the  church  at  Northampton,  and  came 
out  into  the  Berkshire  wilderness,  living  among  these  In- 
dians six  years  and  preaching  by  the  help  of  interpreters. 
The  modern  clergy  may  be  surprised  to  learn  that  this 
great  pastor  labored  here  for  an  annual  salary  of  thirty- 
five  dollars,  with  ten  dollars  extra  paid  in  fuel.  But  he 
lived  happily  at  Stockbridge,  which  the  late  Governor 
Andrew  called  one  of  "the  delicious  surprises  of  Berk- 


GEEAT  BAEKINGTON.  147 

sliire,"  and  in  one  of  the  oldest  houses  in  the  village  wrote 
his  celebrated  work  on  The  Freedom  of  the  Will.  He  left 
in  1757  to  become  president  of  Princeton  College,  and  died 
the  next  year.  His  Indian  flock  hold  a  wonderful  tradi- 
tion. A  great  people,  they  said,  crossed  deep  waters  from 
a  far  distant  continent  in  the  north-west,  and  by  many  pil- 
grimages marched  to  the  seashore  and  the  valley  of  the 
Hudson.  Here  they  built  cities  and  lived  until  a  famine 
scattered  them  and  many  died.  Wandering  for  years  in 
quest  of  a  precarious  living,  they  lost  their  arts  and  man- 
ners, and  part  of  them  settled  on  the  Housatonic,  where 
the  Puritans  afterward  found  them.  In  these  later  days 
they  are  dispersed,  whither  no  one  can  tell,  but  on  the  slope 
of  a  hill  adjoining  the  river  remains  their  old  graveyard, 
with  a  rugged,  weather-worn  shaft  surmounting  a  stone  pile 
to  mark  it.  The  memory  of  Edwards  is  preserved  by  a 
granite  obelisk  in  front  of  his  little  wooden  house. 

These  are  all  gems  set  in  mosaic  among  the  elms  along 
the  village  street,  and,  including  a  beautiful  memorial 
church,  they  have  been  given  by  sons  and  daughters  of 
Stockbridge  who  have  gone  elsewhere,  but  have  not  for- 
gotten their  nativity.  To  us  in  Philadelphia  a  memory  of 
Stockbridge  is  the  fact  that  it  was  the  birthplace  of  John 
S.  Hart,  long  the  principal  of  the  Central  High  School  in 
its  best  days. 

GREAT    BARRINGTON. 

Through  the  gorges  we  follow  down  the  Housatonic 
River,  the  mountain-ridges  pressing  closely.  The  stream 
feeds  more  mills,  but  its  sharp  curves  that  make  such 
pretty  views  have  given  a  difficult  task  to  the  railway- 
builder.  The  water  pours  down  frequent  white-marble 
dams  and  bubbles  over  rapids,  with  steep  tree-clad  slopes 
hemming  in  the  banks,  vrhile  the  jagged  sides  and  rough 
crags  of  Monument  Mountain  rise  high  to  the  eastward. 
This  was  the  "  Fisher's  Nest "  of  the  Stockbridge  tribe, 


148  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

and  as  Hawthorne,  from  his  seven-gabled  home,  looked  out 
upon  its  gnarled  and  forest-covered  walls  of  rocks,  he  de- 
scribed its  full  autumnal  glories  as  "  a  headless  sphinx 
wrapped  in  a  rich  Persian  shawl."  A  cairn  found  on  the 
summit  gave  the  mountain  its  name,  the  tradition  telling  of 
a  mythical  Indian  maiden  who  jumped  from  the  top,  and 
her  tribe  when  they  passed  by,  throwing  stones  on  the  spot, 
thus  built  the  cairn.  Some  one  has  certainly  thrown  many 
stones  all  around  this  rugged  mountain  piled  up  with 
marble  crags  in  a  region  having  abrupt  peaks  starting  out 
over  the  whole  surface  about  it.  Monument  Mountain's 
long  ridge  finally  falls  off,  and  then  the  lowlands  broaden 
to  the  southward  as  the  Housatonic  winds  in  wider  channel 
to  Great  Barrington.  Here  stands  another  typical  New  Eng- 
land village  spreading  along  its  broad  elm-embowered  street, 
with  Mount  Everett  grandly  rising  over  its  south-western 
border  and  another  galaxy  of  peaks  encircling  the  basin 
wherein  the  place  is  built.  Less  attractive  only  than 
Lenox  and  Stockbridge,  it  possesses  the  finest  country- 
house  in  Berkshire — a  mansion  illustrating  the  affection 
the  New  England  emigrant  always  bears  the  home  of 
youth.  Mark  Hopkins  went  from  here  to  California  to 
make  a  fortune  and  die.  His  childless  widow,  also  from 
this  village,  with  thirty  million  dollars  at  her  disposal,  de- 
termined to  rear  a  memorial  on  the  farm  where  she  spent 
her  childhood  days.  On  the  meadow,  almost  at  the  river- 
side, she  has  built  a  home  of  the  native  marbles  of  the 
Berkshire  Hills  exceeding  in  costliness  and  magnificence 
any  other  private  dwelling  in  this  country.  As  the  build- 
ing grew  she  became  so  enamored  of  it  that  she  finally 
took  the  architect  for  a  second  husband.  She  regularly 
travels  across  the  continent  between  her  winter  California 
home  and  her  summer  home  here.  High  above  the  noble 
house  rises  the  special  Berkshire  hill  of  Great  Barring- 
ton,  and  to  its  summit  we  are  taken  to  be  shown  the 
view  beyond.   The  solid  sides  of  broad  Motint  Everett  stand 


TEAVERSING  THE  OLD  BAY  STATE.         149 

up  a  few  miles  away,  the  sentinel  guarding  the  south-west- 
ern corner  of  Massachusetts,  and  to  the  westward  are 
stretched  the  lands  of  New  York  beyond  the  Taghkanic 
range  to  the  distant  Catskills  across  the  valley  of  the  Hud- 
son. A  little  way  southward  is  the  Connecticut  boundary 
with  successive  ranges  of  hills.  Productive  valleys  have 
herds  grazing  along  the  river  almost  beneath  our  feet,  and 
the  pleasant  villages  of  Egremont  and  Sheffield  nestle 
under  the  shadow  of  Everett.  The  marble  of  the  Sheffield 
quarries  built  our  Girard  College.  Thus  have  we  followed 
the  picturesque  Housatonic  from  its  sources  near  Pittsfield 
among  these  glorious  Berkshire  Hills,  and  from  this  elevated 
perch  can  still  trace  it  far  from  us  as  it  flows  away  through 
the  winding  vales  into  Connecticut,  to  be  ultimately  swal- 
lowed by  Long  Island  Sound  beyond  the  peaceful  plain  of 
Old  Stratford. 


XXI. 

TRAVERSING  THE  OLD  BAY  STATE. 

The  Boston  and  Albany  Kailroad  is  one  of  the  main 
routes  of  travel  between  the  Atlantic  seaboard  and  the 
West,  and  is  a  prominent  "  Vanderbilt  line."  It  crosses 
Massachusetts  from  Berkshire  to  the  coast,  going  through 
the  chief  interior  cities  of  the  "  Old  Bay  State."  It  was 
one  of  the  earliest  railways  built,  being  in  progress  from 
1833  to  1842,  when  the  line  was  opened  to  Albany,  and 
the  project  was  derided  as  chimerical.  A  leading  Boston 
newspaper  of  that  day,  the  Courier,  said  it  could  only  be 
built  at  "  an  expense  of  little  less  than  the  market  value 
of  the  whole  territory  of  Massachusetts,  and,  if  practicable, 
every  person  of  common  sense  knows  it  would  be  as  use- 
less as  a  railroad  from  Boston  to  the  moon."  Yet  it  was 
built  and  prospered,  and  the  great  Commonwealth,  to  break 


150  AN  EASTEEN  TOUK. 

its  profitable  monopoly,  had  afterward  to  undertake  the 
prodigious  task  of  boring  the  Hoosac  tunnel,  so  as  to  pro- 
vide a  competing  line.  Coming  up  from  the  Hudson  River 
at  Albany,  this  great  railway  crosses  the  Taghkanic  range 
to  Pittsfield,  and  then  gets  out  of  the  Berkshire  Valley  by 
climbing  over  the  Hoofeacs.  It  crosses  this  latter  flat-topped 
ridge  amid  grand  scenery  at  an  elevation  of  about  fourteen 
hundred  and  fifty  feet,  and  then,  descending  into  the  Con- 
necticut Valley,  gets  down  almost  to  the  tide-water  level. 
Almost  from  the  summit  of  the  Hoosacs  it  seeks  a  route 
by  the  wild  defile  through  which  a  mountain-brook  goes 
down,  and  for  a  dozen  miles  or  so  has  steep  gradients  and 
a  crooked  course  along  this  torrent.  The  brook  flows  into 
the  Westfield  River,  and  that,  in  turn,  into  the  Agawara, 
which  enters  the  Connecticut  River  opposite  Springfield. 
AVithin  these  deep  defiles,  which  seem  to  have  been  fash- 
ioned especially  to  provide  a  railway-route,  the  scenery  is 
very  fine ;  but  their  contracted  bottom-lands  bear  a  plenti- 
ful crop  of  stones,  which  the  people  have  gathered  to  form 
many  fences,  and  it  is  evidently  hard  scratching  for  any  of 
them  to  extract  a  living  from  the  soil. 

In  its  lower  portions  the  Westfield  Valley  occasionally 
broadens  into  the  level  meadows  of  rich  land  so  generally 
seen  in  these  New  England  vales,  and  thus  from  under  the 
shadow  of  towering  peaks  and  frowning  ridges  the  railway 
leads  us  out  of  the  Berkshire  Plills  toward  a  more  promis- 
ing if  less  picturesque  region  for  the  herdsman  and  farmer. 
Thus  we  come  through  the  fertile  Indian  domain  of  Wor- 
onoco  to  the  pleasant  town  of  Westfield,  noted  for  its  whips 
and  cigars,  as  its  factories  have  long  since  outstripped  its 
agriculture.  The  train  then  glides  along  the  pretty  reaches 
of  the  Agawam,  winding  over  the  extensive  plain  of  the 
Connecticut  Valley,  past  more  paper-mills,  and  finally 
crosses  that  river  into  Springfield.  The  difl^erent  streams 
around  Springfield,  like  so  many  of  the  limpid  waters  else- 
where in  Massachusetts,  are  chiefly  devoted  to  paper-mak- 


TRAVERSING  THE  OLD  BAY  STATE.         151 

ing,  so  that  when  we  ascend  another  valley  with  its  swift- 
flowing  rivulet,  east  of  Springfield,  the  route  again  leads 
us  among  the  paper-makers.  Few  can  imagine  the  extent 
of  this  industry  in  Central  and  Western  Massachusetts,  or 
conceive  of  the  enormous  amounts  of  paper  of  all  kinds 
that  are  now  made,  not  only  for  printing,  but  also  for  con- 
sumption in  various  arts  and  manufactures.  This  region  is 
certainly  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  paper-makers.  But, 
steadily  rolling  along  through  one  thriving  manufacturing 
village  after  another,  we  get  away  from  the  purer  waters 
and  out  of  the  paper  district,  though  still  continuing  among 
many  mills,  and  find  the  industries  changing  to  the  making, 
of  cotton,  woollen,  and  leather  goods.  Thus  at  Brookfield 
the  apple-orchards  divide  the  honors  with  shoe-factories  in 
the  town  that  was  the  birthplace  of  the  celebrated  female 
agitator,  Lucy  Stone.  The  waters  of  the  Quaboag  Pond 
turn  some  of  its  wheels,  and  then  flow  off  by  Sashav»'ay 
River  through  Podunk  meadows  to  seek  the  Connecticut 
through  the  Chicopee.  Shoemaking  villages  are  all  about, 
and  at  Spencer  was  born  the  inventor  of  the  sewing-ma- 
chine, Ellas  Howe.  Crags  and  boulders  are  plentiful  in 
scenery  at  times  picturesque,  but  the  hills  have  lost  their 
grandeur,  so  that  eastward  from  Brookfield  they  become 
gradually  subdued,  and  the  railway  traverses  a  region  of 
ponds  and  streams  and  stones,  where  every  water-power 
is  fully  availed  of  While  there  are  comparatively  level 
stretches,  yet  most  of  the  surface  seems  untillable,  and  it  is 
quite  evident  the  people  had  to  seek  other  means  of  liveli- 
hood.* 

*  It  is  difficult  to  say  where  New  England  has  its  most  sterile 
region,  but  in  Massachusetts  it  is  generally  agreed  that  the  town  of 
Ware,  on  the  AVare  River,  some  distance  north-west  of  Worcester, 
is  hard  to  beat  in  this  respect.  It  is  a  picturesquely  located  mill- 
village,  but  its  soil  is  hard  and  sterile.  The  original  grant  of  its 
land  was  made  to  soldiers  after  King  Philip's  War  as  a  reward  for 
bravery.  They  thankfully  accepted  the  gift  and  went  there,  but 
after  examination  they  left  and  sold  all  their  title  at  the  rate  of 


152  AN   EASTERN  TOITR. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  BLACKSTONE. 

Thus  we  come  to  Worcester,  whose  chief  newspaper,  the 
Massachusetts  Spy,  started  as  a  spy  upon  the  Royalists  in  the 
exciting  times  preceding  the  Revolutionary  War,  is  still  a 
prosperous  publication.  It  was  at  a  AVorcester  banquet  in 
1776  that  the  "Sons  of  Freedom"  drank  the  noted  toast.- 
"  May  the  freedom  and  independence  of  America  endure 
till  the  sun  grows  dim  with  age  and  this  earth  returns  to 
chaos:  perpetual  itching  without  the  benefit  of  scratching 
to  the  enemies  of  America !"  This  is  the  second  city  of 
Massachusetts,  about  forty-four  miles  west  of  Boston,  but 
it  has  almost  ceased  to  be  a  Yankee  town  from  the  steady 
migration  of  the  native-born  population  westward,  they 
being  replaced  in  the  numerous  mills  largely  by  French 
Canadians,  Swedes,  and  Irish,  the  latter  element  being  in 
strong  development.  Worcester  has  little  to  show  beyond 
its  extensive  iactories,  its  railway-station — which  is  the 
finest  in  New  England — and  the  noble  soldiers'  monument 
on  the  Common.  It  possesses  the  splendid  buildings  of  the 
Massachusetts  Lunatic  Asylum,  standing  on  the  highest 
hill  in  the  suburbs,  where  the  patients  can  overlook,  at  a 
distance,  the  greatest  attraction  of  the  neighborhood.  Lake 
Quinsigamond,  a  long,  deep,  and  narrow  loch  nestling 
among  the  hills  and  stretching  four  miles  away,  with  its 

about  two  cents  an  acre.  Somebody  wrote  a  poem  describing  the 
creation  of  the  place,  from  which  I  quote  a  specimen  stanza : 

"  Dame  Nature  once,  while  making  land, 
Had  refuse  left  of  stone  and  sand. 
She  viewed  it  well,  then  threw  it  down 
Between  Coy's  Hill  and  Belchertown, 
And  said,  '  You  paltry  stuff,  lie  there, 
And  make  a  town  and  call  it  Ware.'  " 

President  Dwight  once  rode  through  the  town,  but  he  never  wanted 
to  see  it  again,  and  said  regretfully,  in  describing  the  land :  "  It  is 
like  self-righteousness;  the  more  a  man  has  of  it,  the  poorer  he  is." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  BLACKSTONE.  153 

little  gems  of  islands  and  villa-bordered  shores.  Beyond 
it,  scattered  over  the  distant  rim  of  enclosing  hills,  are  sev- 
eral villages  of  Yankee  homes,  with  their  church-spires  set 
against  the  horizon.  This  lake  is  a  noted  regatta-course. 
The  venerable  historian  George  Bancroft  was  born  in 
Worcester.  The  town  had  a  checkered  colonial  career, 
the  Indians  repeatedly  driving  out  the  early  settlers,  until 
they  built  a  fortress-like  church  on  the  Common,  where 
each  man  attended  on  the  Sabbath,  carrying  his  musket 
and  six  rounds  of  ammunition.  These  resolute  colonists, 
as  may  be  supposed,  were  Puritans  bent  on  having  their 
own  way,  for  when  a  few  Scotch  Presbyterians  came  along 
in  1720  and  built  a  church  of  their  creed,  it  was  declared 
a  "  cradle  of  heresy "  and  demolished.  The  mills  that 
have  attracted  a  population  of  eighty  thousand  are  nu- 
merous in  Worcester  and  make  its  prosperity. 

Among  the  adjacent  hills  there  appears  a  little  stream, 
flowing  off  toward  the  south-east,  with  many  curves  and 
constantly  enlarging  current,  until  it  falls  into  Narragan- 
sett  Bay,  about  fort3^-five  miles  distant.  When  the  recluse 
Anglican  clergyman,  William  Blackstone,  who  first  settled 
Boston  about  1625,  learned,  after  a  brief  experience,  that 
he  could  not  get  on  with  the  Puritan  colonists,  he  sold  out 
for  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  and  "  retired  into 
the  wilderness."  He  went  some  forty  miles  into  the  inte- 
rior, and  during  over  forty  years  made  his  home  on  the 
banks  of  this  stream  among  the  Indians,  so  that  it  was 
named  after  him.  The  valley  of  this  Blackstone  River  is 
the  seat  of  some  of  the  greatest  manufacturing  industries 
of  New  England,  chiefly  in  fabrics  of  cotton  and  wool.  In 
its  brief  course  it  descends  more  than  five  hundred  feet, 
giving  a  valuable  water-power  that  is  availed  of  to  the 
utmost ;  and  as  the  mills  have  grown  vastly  beyond  the 
capacity  of  the  river,  steam-power  is  used  also  to  a  large 
extent.  Upon  its  upper  waters  this  stream  has  only  com- 
paratively small  establishments,  but  the  lower  half  of  its 


154  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

course  displays  an  array  of  enormous  factories  that  is  some- 
thing astonishing  in  its  convincing  demonstration  of  the 
methods  by  which  New  England  secures  not  only  subsist- 
ence, but  wealth,  despite  the  inability  of  the  Yankee  hus- 
bandmen to  extract  much  from  the  soil.  This  rapid  stream, 
winding  among  its  enclosing  hills  in  very  crooked  course, 
must  have  been  a  picturesque  torrent  in  the  colonial  days. 
But  now  it  is  much  changed.  Numerous  ponds  and  reser- 
voirs, with  other  feeders,  accumulate  a  vast  amount  of  water 
for  the  Blackstone  River  in  the  southern  part  of  Massachu- 
setts, and  it  has  largely  become  a  succession  of  dams  and 
canals  that  for  more  than  twenty  miles  are  lined  by  mills, 
the  water  no  sooner  having  turned  one  set  of  wheels  than 
it  is  sent  along  for  use  by  another.  More  than  half  a  mil- 
lion people  live  in  this  short  but  busy  valley  stretching 
through  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island.  The  operatives, 
as  at  Worcester,  are  composed  chiefly  of  the  French  Cana- 
dians, Swedes,  and  the  various  British  races,  and  in  some 
of  the  towns  the  French  preponderate.  The  Yankees  long 
ago  left  this  region  in  droves  to  build  up  the  ^yest,  and 
have  thus  been  replaced  by  other  races  of  less  restless  am- 
bition, who  are  content  to  work  in  the  mills.  This  teeming 
mill-country  appears  to  have  plenty  to  do,  and  the  work- 
people are  well  clad  and  seem  comfortably  well  off,  living 
in  rows  of  neat  dwellings,  generally,  like  most  of  the  smaller 
New  England  homes,  built  of  wood,  though  some  are  of 
brick. 

THE  VAST   INDUSTRIAL   HIVE. 

From  Worcester  we  turned  down  this  Blackstone  Valley, 
which  is  one  of  the  greatest  mill-regions  of  the  United 
States.  Frequent  settlements  nestle  among  the  hills  en- 
closing the  river,  which  make  a  rather  narrow  valley,  the 
slopes  being  w^ell  wooded,  but  rarely  rising  over  one  hun- 
dred feet  high.  The  chief  industries  begin  at  the  Rhode 
Island  boundary,  at  the  towns  of  Waterford  and  Black- 


THE  VAST  INDUSTEIAL  HIVE.  155 

stone,  gradually  spreading  into  the  larger  town  of  Woon- 
socket.  Canals  conduct  the  water  from  the  frequent  dams 
to  the  mill-wheels,  while  the  tall  chimney-stacks  and  steam- 
jets  show  that  much  power  is  added.  At  AVoonsocket  the 
stream  goes  around  circuitous  bends  in  admirable  style  for 
conducting  its  waters  through  the  mills,  and  here  thirty 
thousand  people  make  cotton  and  woollen  cloth.  The 
noted  "  Harris  cassimere "  is  the  chief  manufacture,  and 
Mr.  Harris  lives  in  a  pleasant  house  overlooking  the  town 
and  his  Social  Mills.  The  entire  river-current  is  drawn 
under  the  mill-wheels  as  the  stream  winds  among  the  rocks 
which  are  bared  below  the  dam,  and  upon  the  surrounding 
hills  the  operatives  live  in  many  rows  of  attractive  frame 
houses.  The  rush  of  waters  and  the  rattle  of  looms  are 
Woonsocket's  steadfast  lullaby,  while  on  the  outskirts  rises 
Woonsocket  Hill,  the  highest  mountain  in  Rhode  Island, 
and  having,  in  the  curious  hydraulic  arrangements  of  this 
region,  a  pond  on  its  summit.  Below  this  the  Blackstone 
Kiver  is  a  succession  of  manufacturing  villages — Manville, 
Albion,  Ashton,  Lonsdale,  Valley  Falls,  Central  Falls,  and 
Pawtucket — each  with  its  great  dams  and  reservoirs  hold- 
ing the  waters  that  pour  out  in  steady  streams  to  turn  the 
wheels.  The  banks  are  lined  with  enormous  factories,  some 
being  buildings  four  and  five  stories  high  and  a  thousand 
feet  long,  with  hundreds  of  windows  and  ponderous  stair- 
way-towers separately  constructed  as  fire-escapes.  These 
mills  are  usually  built  of  brick,  and  some  are  quite  orna- 
mental. All  have  auxiliary  steam-power,  and  in  most  cases 
the  steady  growth  of  the  establishment  can  be  traced  from 
the  first  small  mill,  usually  of  stone  or  plaster,  extended  by 
additional  larger  buildings  as  profits  accumulated. 

Rarely  do  these  huge  establishments  bear  either  sign  or 
name,  and  it  is  said  that  many  of  the  operatives  actually 
do  not  know  who  they  are  working  for.  Most  of  the  mills 
are  owned  by  wealthy  corporations  having  their  head-offices 
in  Boston  or  Providence.     The  railway  runs  among  them 


156  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

near  the  river,  crossing  from  one  side  to  the  other  as  bends 
make  necessary.  The  country  has  picturesque  features,  but 
does  not  seem  very  inviting,  so  far  as  can  be  seen  from  the 
valley,  for  rocks  abound  in  profusion  on  the  enclosing  hill- 
slopes.  Few  localities,  however,  can  rival  this  industrial 
development.  Here  gathers  an  army  of  Rhode  Island  ope- 
ratives whose  labors  have  made  the  State  rich,  and  given 
it,  small  as  it  is,  pre-eminence  as  a  textile  manufacturer. 
The  Blackstone  waters,  which  are  doing  such  good  service, 
become  steadily  greater  in  volume,  but  are  more  and  more 
polluted  as  they  descend,  so  that  in  its  lower  course  it  is  a 
dark-colored  and  most  malodorous  stream.  The  railway 
runs  among  the  dams,  and  sometimes  over  them,  and  as  the 
hills  protrude  it  boldly  cuts  them  through,  piercing  in  one 
of  those  cuttings  through  Study  Hill,  where  Blackstone 
lived  in  his  hermit  home  among  his  books,  the  river  rush- 
ing swiftly  along  its  base.  At  Pawtucket  there  are  twenty- 
five  thousand  people,  the  town  extending  up  into  the  vil- 
lages of  Central  and  Valley  Falls,  and  here  are  the  greatest 
thread-factories  in  the  country;  and  the  river,  having  a 
descent  of  fifty  feet,  gives  enormous  power,  which  is  drawn 
upon  at  different  levels  from  several  dams.  Pawtucket 
makes  all  sorts  of  textiles  and  muslins,  and  calicoes  are 
turned  out  in  large  amounts.  The  slopes  running  up  from 
the  valley,  with  much  surface  on  the  elevated  lands  above, 
are  covered  with  operatives'  houses.  As  night  falls  upon 
this  busy  river  ten  thousand  lights  dance  in  the  factory- 
windows  and  are  reflected  in  the  black  waters  below.  This 
town  has  the  most  attractive  situation  on  the  Blackstone, 
which  here  has  its  name  changed  to  the  Pawtucket  Kiver ; 
and  it  is  famous  as  the  place  where  cotton  manufacturing 
first  began  in  New  England  in  1790.  The  noted  Samuel 
Slater,  who  was  born  at  Belper  in  Derbyshire,  England, 
had  worked  there  for  both  Strutt  and  Arkwright,  and 
learning  that  American  bounties  had  been  offered  for  tlie 
introduction  of  Arkwright's  patents  in  cotton-spinning,  he 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  NAEKAGANSETTS.         157 

crossed  the  ocean  and  landed  at  Newport  in  1789.  Here 
he  learned  that  Moses  Brown  had  attempted  cotton-spinning 
by  machinery  in  Rhode  Island.  He  wrote  to  Brown,  tell- 
ing what  he  could  do,  and  received  a  reply  in  which  Brown 
said  his  attempt  had  been  unsuccessful,  and  added, "  If  thou 
canst  do  this  thing  I  invite  thee  to  come  to  Rhode  Island 
and  have  the  credit  and  the  profit  of  introducing  cotton 
manufacture  into  America."  Slater  went  to  Pawtucket, 
and  on  December  21,  1790,  he  started  three  carding-ma- 
chines  and  spinning-frames  of  seventy-two  spindles.  He 
afterward  became  a  prominent  manufacturer,  building 
large  mills  there  and  elsewhere ;  and  the  impetus  he  thus 
gave  Pawtucket  made  it  the  leading  American  manufactur- 
ing town  for  nearly  half  a  century. 


XXII. 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  NAEEAGANSETTS. 

We  have  come  down  the  busy  Blackstone  River  through 
Pawtucket,  and  find  it  dissolving  gradually  into  a  region 
of  more  mills  and  frame  houses  toward  Providence.  The 
river,  which  for  a  brief  space  is  known  as  the  Pawtucket, 
finally,  at  its  mouth  just  below,  becomes  the  Seeconk  River, 
making  part  of  Providence  harbor  and  one  of  the  heads 
of  Xarragansett  Bay.  The  industrial  operatives  to-day 
swarming  the  banks  of  this  remarkable  stream  are  some- 
what changed,  however,  from  those  who  peopled  its  shores 
in  earlier  times.  They  were  not  then  much  as  textile 
workers  or  Quaker  and  Baptist  cotton-spinners,  but  when 
provoked  they  made  good  fighters.  The  bloodiest  Indian 
war  in  which  the  New  England  colonists  ever  engaged  was 
"  King  Philip's  War,"  much  of  which  was  fought  in  this 
neighborhood,  though  it  also  extended  to  the  then  remote 


158  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR 

western  settlements  of  the  Connecticut  Valley.  This  famous 
chieftain  had  been  brought  up  by  his  father,  Massasoit,  as 
a  friend  of  the  white  man,  but  bad  treatment  made  his  love 
turn  to  hatred,  and,  preaching  a  crusade  among  all  the  New 
England  tribes,  he  began  a  war  of  extermination.  In  the 
end  the  Puritans  were  too  much  for  him,  and  after  his 
forces  had  been  almost  annihilated  he  was  slain.  Philip 
was  the  grand  sachem  of  the  Wampanoags  or  Narragan- 
setts,  and  his  people  occupied  all  the  country  around  Nar- 
ragansett  Bay,  to  which  they  gave  the  name.  They  were 
a  numerous  and  powerful  Algonquin  tribe,  and  Canonicus 
and  Canonchet,  also  Narragansett  chiefs,  have  their  names 
preserved  in  islands  in  the  bay,  but,  unfortunately,  to-day 
nothing  is«  left  of  this  noble  Indian  nation  but  a  handful 
of  weak  and  neglected  half-breeds.  All  around  Narra- 
gansett Bay,  which  extends  inland  from  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  for  thirty  miles  to  Providence,  are  memorials  of  the 
race.  The  shores,  once  their  domain,  now  make  the  little 
State  of  "  Rhode  Island  and  Providence  Plantations,"  which 
still  keeps  the  title  thus  written  in  King  Charles  II.'s  orig- 
inal charter.  It  is  the  smallest  State  of  the  Union,  being 
less  than  fifty  miles  long  and  only  forty  miles  wide,  having 
a  land-and-water  area,  including  the  bay  and  its  shores 
and  islands,  of  barely  thirteen  hundred  square  miles.  Yet 
this  diminutive  sovereign  State  has  two  capitals,  which 
come  down  from  its  origin — Providence  and  Newport — one 
for  each  set  of  plantations  combined  in  the  charter,  New- 
port being  on  Rhode  Island.  The  bay  divides  it  into  un- 
equal portions,  the  western  shore  having  the  largest  sur- 
face. The  hills  on  the  eastern  shore  run  up  into  Mount 
Hope,  near  the  town  of  Bristol,  which  was  King  Philip's 
home  and  the  scene  of  his  death.  Were  the  old  Indian 
now  alive  he  could  from  his  eyrie  look  down  upon  another 
busy  manufacturing  settlement  bordering  the  bay,  making 
muslins  and  prints  and  large  amounts  of  India-rubber 
goods.     Rhode  Island  is  densely  populated,  but  half  the 


"WHAT  CHEEK,  NOTOP?"  159 

people  live  in  Providence,  the  second  city  of  New  Eng- 
land. These  Rhode  Islanders  labor  in  their  mills  with 
prodigious  result,  the  State  ranking  first  in  the  Union  in 
the  proportion  of  product  to  population.  They  turn  out 
more  textiles  than  any  other  State  excepting  Pennsylvania 
and  Massachusetts. 

"W^HAT    CHEER,   NOTOP?" 

Kine  hundred  years  ago  the  Northmen  discovered  Yin- 
land,  which  has  since  been  demonstrated  by  industrious  inves- 
tigators to  have  been  this  busy  region  around  Narragansett 
Bay.  Acting  upon  this  belief,  the  Scandinavians  in  various 
parts  of  New  England  held  celebrations  two  or  three  years 
ago  and  set  up  a  commemorative  statue  in  Boston.  While, 
however,  we  are  not  so  sure  about  the  first  discovery,  we  do 
know  all  about  the  first  settlement  by  the  brave  and  pious 
Welshman  Roger  Williams,  the  heretical  Salem  preacher 
whom  the  Puritans  banished  from  Massachusetts  in  1635. 
He  went  afoot  to  the  Seecouk  plains  along  the  lower 
Blackstone  River,  and,  halting  there,  lived  with  the  Nar- 
ragansetts,  who  were  always  his  firm  friends.  But  the 
wrathful  Puritans  would  not  tolerate  this,  and  ordered 
him  to  move  on,  so  that  in  the  next  spring,  with  five 
companions,  he  embarked  in  a  log  canoe  and  floated  down 
the  Seeconk  River,  his  movements  being  watched  by  groups 
of  Indians  on  the  banks.  He  crossed  over  the  stream  and 
landed  on  what  has  since  been  called  '*  What  Cheer  Rock," 
on  the  eastern  edge  of  Providence,  thus  named  because 
when  Williams  stepped  ashore  some  of  the  Indians  pleas- 
antly saluted  him  with  the  friendly  greeting,  "  What  cheer, 
Notop  ?"  (friend) — words  still  carefully  preserved  through- 
out the  city  and  State  in  the  names  of  banks,  buildings, 
and  various  associations.  Regarding  this  a  good  omen, 
he  forthwith  started  a  settlement,  naming  it  Providence, 
"  in  grateful  acknowledgment  of  God's  merciful  providence 
to  him  in  his  distress."     The  old  gentleman's  exalted  piety 


160  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

was  beyond  question,  and  not  only  is  the  religious  spirit  in 
which  the  city  was  founded  indicated  in  its  name,  but  even 
in  the  titles  of  the  highways  are  incorporated  the  cardinal 
virtues  and  the  higher  emotions,  as  in  Joy  Street,  Faith 
Street,  Happy  Street,  Hope  Street,  Friendsliip  Street,  Bene- 
fit Street,  Benevolent   Street,  and  others.     He  became   a 
Baptist,  and  the  "  Society  of  the  First   Baptist  Church," 
which  he  founded,  claims  to  be  the  oldest  Baptist  organiza- 
tion on  the  continent.     But  Roger  AVillians  was  somewhat 
unstable,  and  only  remained  with  this  church  as  pastor  four 
years,  as   he  then  withdrew,  having  grave  doubts  of  the 
valid itv  of  his  own    baptism.     It  appears  that  when  the 
church  was  started  a  layman,  Ezekiel  Holliman,  first  bap- 
tized Williams,  and  then  Williams  baptized  Holliman  and 
the  others.     When  he  withdrew  it  was  not  only  from  the 
pastoral  relation,  but  he  also  ceased  worshipping  any  longer 
with  his  brethren,  and  his  conscientious   scruples  finally 
brought  him  to  the  conclusion  that  there  is  "  no  regularly 
constituted  church  on  earth,  nor  any  person  authorized  to 
administer  any  church  ordinance,  nor  could  there  be  until 
new  apostles  were  sent  by  the  great  Head  of  the  Church, 
for  whose  coming  he  was  seeking."     His  meetings  during 
many  years  thereafter  were  held  in  a  grove.    A  new  church 
was  built  in  1726  by  this  venerable  Baptist  society  which  he 
founded,  and  in  its  honor  they  had  "  a  grand  dinner."    The 
elaborate  banquet  of  those  primitive  days  consisted  of  the 
whole  congregation  dining  upon  one  sheep,  one  pound  of 
butter,  two  loaves  of  bread,  and  a  half-peck  of  peas,  at  a 
cost  of  twenty-seven  shillings.     To-day  their  white  painted 
wooden  church,  with  its  surmounting  steeple,  overlooks  the 
city  from  a  slope  rising  above  Providence  Kiver. 

THE   CITY   OF   PROVIDENCE. 

Upon  a  semicircular  line  laid  around  the  "  Cove  "  in  the 
centre  of  the  city  the  railway-train  enters  Providence.  This 
circular  body  of  water,  having  rows  of  trees  planted  around 


THE  CITY  OF  PROVIDENCE.  161 

it,  is  a  broadening  of  a  water-way  and  a  vile-smelling  place 
— it  receives  so  much  sewage — but  it  is  to  be  covered  in  and 
made  an  attractive  railway-terminal.  Adjoining  is  the 
massive  City  Hall,  the  handsomest  public  building  in 
Rhode  Island,  a  structure  of  granite  that  cost  one  million 
five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  In  high  relief  upon  its 
front  is  exhibited  the  medallion  bust  of  the  patron  saint 
of  the  little  State,  old  Roger  Williams,  wearing  his  typical 
sugar-loaf  hat.  A  magnificent  stair-hall  lighted  from  above 
is  a  feature  of  this  impressive  building  ;  and  from  the  sur- 
mounting tower  there  is  a  fine  view  over  the  city  and  sur- 
rounding regions  and  far  down  the  bay  toward  the  ocean. 
A  soldiers'  monument  stands  in  the  public  square  in  front 
bearing  the  names  of  hundreds  who  fell  in  the  war,  and 
having  well-executed  bronze  statues  representing  the  differ- 
ent arms  of  the  service.  General  Burnside,  who  was  the 
leading  Rhode  Island  general,  faces  it — a  statue  in  heroic 
bronze.  All  these  are  artistic  works,  but  the  city  of  Provi- 
dence has  a  priceless  gem  of  another  kind  in  the  exquisite 
little  picture  of  "  The  Hours,"  painted  on  ivory  in  London 
by  Malbone  of  Newport — the  three  Grecian  nymphs  rep- 
resenting the  Past,  Present,  and  Future.  This  is  one  of  the 
famous  and  most  admired  paintings  in  America,  and  is 
carefully  kept  in  the  Atheneum,  a  solid  granite  house  built 
on  the  hillside  not  far  from  the  Baptist  church.  Brown 
University  has  its  campus  and  row  of  buildings  farther  up 
this  hill — the  great  Rhode  Island  Baptist  college  which 
bears  the  name  of  one  of  the  leading  families  of  the 
wealthy  manufacturing  house  of  Brown  &  Ives.  Around 
this  college  and  all  through  the  extensive  suburbs  are  the 
splendid  homes  of  the  capitalists  and  mill-owners  of  the 
State,  who  have  made  this  hill,  which  rises  between  the 
Providence  and  Seeconk  Rivers,  the  most  attractive  resi- 
dential section.  These  textile  millionaires  have  lined 
Benefit  Street  on  this  hill  with  their  palaces. 

In  fact,  Providence  is  a  town  of  many  hills  and  hollows, 
11 


162  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

and  the  vast  aggregation  of  frame  houses  it  displays  would 
seem  to  offer  a  great  temptation  for  fire.  Extensive  sec- 
tions can  be  traversed  without  seeing  a  single  brick  or  stone 
building.  There  is  little  trade  by  sea,  excepting  bringing 
coal  and  cotton,  but  it  has  a  large  railway-traffic.  Like  all 
the  Rhode  Island  towns,  it  has  many  mills  and  it  is  a  cen- 
tre of  much  capital.  There  seem  to  be  about  forty  banks 
in  the  place,  and  it  evidently  is  a  wealthy  community ;  its 
mills  make  steam-engines  and  locomotives,  cigars,  textiles, 
and  silver  ware,  rifles,  stoves,  and  jewelry,  and  a  "  pain- 
killer "  for  the  ills  of  humanity  that  is  consumed  by  the 
hundred  thousand  gallons  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  The 
"  imin-killer  "  factory  is  one  of  the  lions  of  the  town.  In 
Providence  was  built  the  great  Corliss  engine  for  our  Cen- 
tennial Exhibition,  now  at  Pullman,  near  Chicago.  Here 
are  also  made  on  an  extensive  scale  the  cotton-seed  and 
peanut  oils"  that  pass  current  as  the  genuine  "  olive  oil," 
they  are  of  such  rare  flavor.  This  is  the  headquarters  for 
gimlet-pointed  wood  screws,  for  tortoise-shell  work,  and 
cocoanut  dippers.  But  Providence,  beyond  all  other  fame, 
is  devoted  to  the  memory  of  Roger  Williams.  A  little  old 
house  on  Abbott  Street,  having  a  quaint  peaked  roof  and 
built  in  the  seventeenth  century,  is  carefully  preserved  as  a 
precious  relic,  being  reverenced  as  the  place  where  he  held 
some  of  his  prayer-meetings.  His  bronze  statue  ornaments 
the  Roger  Williams  Park,  long  the  home  of  one  of  his  re- 
mote descendants,  Betsy  Williams,  who  gave  it  to  the  city 
as  her  tribute  to  her  great-great-grandfather  in  1871 — a 
beautiful  tract  of  about  one  hundred  acres  surrounding  her 
old  gambrel-roofed  house  of  the  last  century.  Here  you 
sail  on  Crystal  Lake  and  get  refreshments  at  "  What  Cheer 
Cottage."  But  the  landing-place  of  "  What  Cheer  Rock," 
alongside  the  Seeconk  River,  is  the  most  treasured  memo- 
rial of  the  founder — a  pile  of  slaty  rocks  enclosed  by  a 
railing,  near  the  foot  of  Williams  Street,  down  by  the 
water-side. 


NAKRAGANSETT  BAY.  163 

NARRAGANSETT   BAY. 

Providence  is  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  finest  harbors  on 
the  New  England  coast.  Narragansett  Bay  stretches  far 
up  into  the  laud  to  receive  the  waters  of  the  many  rivers 
that  turn  the  Rhode  Island  mill-wheels,  and  it  is  the  great 
attraction  of  the  State.  The  bay  opens  broadly  south  of 
Providence,  the  shores  being  most  beautiful,  lined  with 
w^ater-worn  cliffs  and  low  crags,  in  front  of  which  are  lovely 
little  rocky  islets,  several  of  them  bearing  lighthouses  to 
guide  the  mariner  into  the  harbor-entrance.  Along  the 
coasts  and  upon  the  larger  islands  are  the  pleasure-resorts 
that  every  season  draw  thousands  of  visitors  to  enjoy  these 
charming  cliffs  and  the  clear  and  sparkling  waters  rolling 
in  upon  the  pebbly  beaches.  Within  its  embrace  are 
several  islands  of  great  fame,  while  out  in  the  Atlantic 
off  shore  is  Block  Island.  The  largest  island  of  Narra- 
gansett  Bay  is  Aquidueck,  or  Rhode  Island,  thus  named 
from  a  fancied  resemblance  to  the  Isle  of  Rhodes,  and  fur- 
nishing the  first  half  of  the  long  name  of  the  little  State — 
"Rhode  Island  and  Providence  Plantations."  It  is  about 
fifteen  miles  long,  and  of  much  fertility,  having  the  best 
farm-land  in  New  England,  and  at  the  southern  end  the 
noted  watering-place  of  Newport.  The  memory  of  the  old 
Narragansett  chieftain,  Conanicut,  is  preserved  in  Conanicut 
Island,  west  of  Rhode  Island,  and  seven  miles  long,  having 
between  the  two  islands  the  fjimous  anchorage-ground  of 
Newport  harbor.  Old  Roger  Williams  has  also  been  down 
here  distributing  his  stock  of  names,  for  Prudence,  Patience, 
Hope,  and  Despair  are  other  islands  in  the  bay,  and  most 
of  them  popular  resorts.  The  sail  upon  Narragansett 
Bay  from  Providence  to  Newport  is  very  attractive,  and 
exhibits  the  universality  with  which  the  natives  gather  the 
prolific  crop  of  these  waters — the  clam.  Men  and  boys  in 
boats  are  dredging  all  the  coves  and  shallows  for  clams, 
seizing   enormous    numbers   by  the  skilful   use   of   their 


164  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR. 

double  rakes.  The  people  are  proud  of  their  home  insti- 
tution, the  "  clam-bake,"  which  is  given  at  all  the  shore- 
resorts,  and  is  considered  a  connecting  link  binding  them 
with  the  ancient  Narragansetts,  who  originated  it.  To  con- 
duct the  "  clam-bake  "  properly  a  Avood-fire  is  built  in  the 
open  air  upon  a  layer  of  large  stones,  and  when  these  are 
sufficiently  heated  the  embers  and  ashes  are  swept  off,  the 
stones  covered  with  a  layer  of  seaweed,  and  clams  in  the 
shells,  with  other  delicacies,  are  put  upon  it,  being  covered 
by  sail-cloths  and  also  by  masses  of  seaweed  to  keep  in  the 
steam.  The  clams  are  thus  baked  by  the  heated  stones 
and  steamed  by  the  moisture  from  the  salt  seaweed.  The 
coverings  are  then  removed,  the  clams  opened,  and  the 
feasting  begins,  and  with  appetite  whetted  by  the  delicious 
breezes  from  over  the  bay  the  meal  is  relished  beyond  de- 
scription. There  are  millions  of  clams  thus  consumed  all 
about  these  waters  and  those  of  New  York  and  Long  Island 
Sound,  and  where  all  of  them  are  produced  is  a  mystery, 
for  the  shores  are  so  assiduously  dredged  one  would  think 
the  clams  would  not  have  time  to  grow.  Of  the  Narra- 
ganset-Bay  resorts  the  chief  are  Rocky  Point — a  forest- 
covered  promontory  having  a  huge  "  clam-bake "  dining- 
hall — and  Narragansett  Pier  on  the  western  shore,  down  by 
the  open  sea.  This  was  anciently  a  fishing-village,  and  has 
a  sea-battered  and  ruined  pier  originally  built  for  a  break- 
water. It  has  become  very  fashionable  as  a  seaside  resort, 
and  has  many  large  hotels  spreading  in  imposing  array 
alona:  the  shore.  The  smooth  sands  of  its  bathing-beach 
look  out  upon  Newport  far  over  the  bay  in  front,  and  they 
have  on  their  southern  border  precipitous  cliffs  against 
which  the  Atlantic  Ocean  breakers  dash,  the  last  rocks 
on  the  American  coast  until  the  Florida  reefs  are  reached. 


CHAEMING  NEWPOKT  OF  AQUIDNECK.        165 

XXIII. 

CHAEMING  NEWPOET  OF  AQUIDNECK. 

We  have  sailed  down  the  pleasant  waters  of  Narragan- 
sett  Bay  and  landed  at  the  queen  of  our  seaside  resorts, 
Newport.  The  south-western  extremity  of  Aquidneck,  or 
Rhode  Island,  broadens  into  a  wide  peninsula  of  almost 
level  and  quite  fertile  land,  which  makes  a  plateau  ele- 
vated about  fifty  feet  above  the  sea.  This  plateau  rests 
upon  rock,  and  the  rocky  layers  make  cliffs  all  about 
the  plateau,  with  coves  worked  into  them,  presenting 
smooth  beaches  and  intervening  bold  promontories.  The 
south-eastern  border  of  this  plateau  has  toward  the  Atlan- 
tic an  irregular  front  of  little  bays  and  projections,  with 
the  waves  dashing  against  the  bases  of  their  bordering 
cliffs  and  among  the  rocks  that  are  profusely  strewn 
beyond  them.  Brenton's  Point  is  behind  the  western 
extremity  of  the  island,  and  projects  in  such  a  way  as 
to  protect  the  inner  harbor  of  Newport.  And  here  are 
the  wharves  and  the  ancient  part  of  the  town,  its  narrow 
streets  and  older  houses  covering  considerable  surface. 
This  was  "  charming  Newport  of  Aquidneck,"  as  the 
colonial  chronicler  recorded  it,  then  a  leading  seaport  of 
New  England.  Thames  Street  fronts  the  town,  and  in 
the  last  century  was  one  of  the  busiest  highways  in 
America.  Upon  Brenton's  Point,  protecting  the  harbor- 
entrance,  is  built  Fort  Adams,  which  was  a  formidable 
work  before  modern  improvements  in  gunnery  superseded 
the  old  systems,  and,  next  to  Fortress  Monroe,  it  is  now  the 
largest  defensive  work  in  the  United  States.  It  was  built 
during  the  Presidency  of  John  Adams,  as  the  other  was 
during  the  Administration  of  James  Monroe,  each  being 
named  for  the  President  who  directed  its  construction. 
Curiously  enough.  Fort  Adams  was  hurried  to  comple- 
tion as  a  defence  against  France,  then  believed  to  med- 


166  AN  EASTERN  TOUR.       • 

itate  war  against  the  republic  she  had  so  recently  assisted 
in  creating.  Under  the  guns  of  Fort  Adams  the  graceful 
yachts  now  ride  at  anchor  that  represent  Newport's  chief 
ocean  commerce,  while  two  or  three  men-of-war  moored 
beyond  give  notification  that  the  United  States  has  a  navy. 
All  around  this  ancient  town,  and  spreading  broadly  over 
the  plateau  to  which  the  land  slopes  up  in  gentle  ascent 
from  the  harbor,  is  the  modern  Newport  of  fashionable  life 
and  its  most  exclusive  resort.  From  the  older  town,  south- 
ward across  this  plateau,  stretches  Bellevue  Avenue  through 
the  fashionable  section. 

Unlike  most  of  our  watering-places,  Newport  is  not  a 
city  of  hotels,  but  is  pre-eminently  a  gathering  of  the  cost- 
liest suburban  homes  this  country  can  show.  Built  upon  a 
space  about  three  miles  long  and  one  or  two  miles  broad, 
modern  Newport  consists  of  a  galaxy  of  most  elaborate 
country-houses,  each  in  an  enclosure  of  lawns,  flower-gar- 
dens, and  foliage,  all  highly  ornamental  and  exceedingly 
well  kept.  Many  of  these  houses  are  palaces  that  have 
cost  enormous  sums,  and  in  front  of  them  for  several  miles 
along  the  winding  brow  of  the  cliffs  that  fall  off  pre- 
cipitously to  the  ocean's  edge  is  laid  the  noted  "  Cliff 
Walk."  This  is  a  narrow  footpath  just  at  the  edge  of  the 
lovely  greensward  that  has  the  waves  dashing  against  the 
bases  of  the  rocks  supporting  it,  while  on  the  land  side  of 
the  smooth  and  well-kept  lawns  are  the  costliest  palaces  of 
Newport,  a  broad  surface  intervening  between  them  and 
the  edges  of  the  cliffs,  while  they  have  a  grand  and  un- 
obstructed outlook  over  the  ocean.  Each  building  is  a 
type  of  different  architecture,  and,  no  matter  how  elab- 
orate, each  is  called  a  "  cottage."  The  methods  of  con- 
struction of  these  Newport  villas  are  of  every  conceivable 
kind — French,  Gothic,  Swiss,  Flemish,  Elizabethan,  every 
sort  of  ancient  house  known  to  Great  Britain  or  conti- 
nental Europe,  being  imitated  and  improved  upon,  while  in 
some  remarkable  cases  widely  varying  styles  are  condensed 


NEWPORT  GRANDEUR  AND  NEWNESS.        167 

into  one.  In  this  way  some  of  these  "  cottages  "  have  be- 
come ehiborate  aggregations  of  buildings,  with  all  kinds  of 
porticos,  doorways,  pavilions,  dormers,  oriels,  bow-windows, 
bays  and  turrets,  chimneys,  towers,  and  gambrel  roofs,  all 
piled  together.  In  one  noticeable  case  the  villa  has  been 
elongated  into  the  stable,  both  making  a  remarkably  ap- 
pearing but  single  extended  house,  and  just  where  the  one 
ends  and  the  other  may  begin  it  is  hard  to  determine,  as 
the  family,  horses,  and  hounds,  with  the  domestics  and 
grooms,  are  all  practically  living  under  the  same  roof. 
Much  attention  is  paid  to  the  flower-beds  and  grass-plots, 
but  out  on  the  lawns  of  the  ocean  front  it  is  difficult  to 
make  the  trees  grow,  as  the  high  winds  coming  without  a 
protecting  barrier  from  over  the  sea  uproot  them,  so  that 
the  "  Cliff  Walk,"  with  its  bordering  greensward,  is  bare 
of  shade.  These  level  lawns  of  most  delicious  green  spread 
to  the  very  brink  of  the  cliffs,  so  that  they  break  off  ab- 
ruptly at  the  tops  of  the  rocky  buttresses  against  whose 
bases  the  sea  is  constantly  washing. 

NEWPORT   GRANDEUR   AND   NEW^NESS. 

Upon  the  palatial  mansions  of  Newport  have  been  lav- 
ished, in  construction  and  decoration,  large  portions  of  the 
greatest  incomes  of  the  millionaires  of  Boston  and  New 
York,  and  hither  they  hie  to  enjoy  the  summer  and  autumn 
in  a  sort  of  fashionable  semi-seclusion,  for  these  are  the  sea- 
side cottage-homes  of  the  Vanderbilts,  Astors,  Goelets,  Lor- 
illards,  Bennetts,  Osgoods,  Belmonts,  Hamiltons,  Stewarts, 
Havemeyers,  Stevens,  Brewers,  Wetmores,  Schermerhorns, 
and  others  whose  desire  and  ability  to  spend  money  upon 
the  elaborate  decoration  and  maintenance  of  their  summer 
palaces  seem  almost  limitless.  The  superb  dwellings  facing 
the  "Cliff  Walk"  in  its  miles  of  beautiful  course  along 
the  winding  outer  edge  of  the  Newport  buttress  of  rocks 
protecting  the  place  against  the  waves,  present  a  display 
of  residential  magnificence  that  in  its  way  is  unexcelled. 


168  AN  EASTEKN  TOUE. 

These  princes  of  inherited  wealth  have  made  Newport 
peculiarly  their  own.  Its  genial  climate  first  drew  them 
to  the  place,  and  it  has  the  added  attraction  of  soil  of  un- 
excelled fertility  right  at  the  edge  of  the  sea,  growing  luxu- 
riant flowers  and  grasses,  while  within  the  island  are  the 
finest  trees,  although  the  substratum  is  rock.  This  fertility 
wedded  them  to  Newport,  which  has  since  been  made  the 
fashionable  seaside  home  for  the  millionaire  class.  Nowhere 
else  are  gathered  for  protracted  residence,  as  a  recreation, 
so  many  of  the  nabobs  created  by  the  American  facility  of 
quickly  amassing  enormous  wealth,  and,  their  expenditures 
being  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  their  millions,  the  im- 
provement and  growth  of  the  newer  part  of  Newport  have 
been  extraordinary.  In  the  choicest  locations  the  price  of 
land  is  advanced  to  fifty  thousand  dollars  an  acre  (William 
K.  Vanderbilt  has  just  bought  eleven  acres  for  five  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  his  son  George),  whilst  the 
poorest  and  most  remote  surfaces  of  forbidding  rocks  away 
from  the  sea  are  held  at  four  thousand  and  five  thousand 
dollars.  The  taxes  j^re  said  to  be  low,  but  some  of  these 
mansions  with  a  few  acres  of  lawn  will  pay  twenty-five 
hundred  to  thirty-five  hundred  dollars  annually.  The 
costliest  villas — there  being  none,  however,  with  more  than 
five  or  six  acres — are  valued  at  fabulous  sums,  although 
nothing  probably  would  induce  their  owners  to  sell.  The 
most  elaborate  of  these  Newport  "  cottages  "  cost  six  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  to  build. 

There  is,  however,  throughout  this  extremely  exclusive 
quarter  everywhere  the  impressive  air  of  newness.  Trees 
have  hardly  yet  grown,  as  this  requires  more  generations 
than  have  been  evolved  since  the  fortune  was  founded.  The 
great  houses  are  all  recent  constructions.  It  is  true,  the 
architecture  reproduces  quaint  and  ancient  forms,  being 
elaborated  wherever  possible  to  please  the  eye,  but  the 
paint  seems  yet  fresh  and  the  ancestral  ivy  has  hardly 
begun  to  cling  to  the  walls.     When,  in  a  generation  or 


NEWPOET  CHAKACTEKISTICS.  169 

two,  maturer  years  shall  have  caused  the  trees  to  grow,  all 
this  magnificence  will  have  assumed  more  grandeur.  Yet 
there  are,  even  now,  older  bits  in  Newport,  and,  if  not  so 
costly,  still  many  exquisite  places  far  more  attractive,  even 
if  they  do  not  so  glaringly  display  the  millions  that  created 
them.  Back  from  the  sea-front  some  of  the  estates  existing 
many  years  already  show  the  charms  of  maturity.  The 
houses  are  in  style  subdued  and  small  and  plain,  compared 
with  the  palaces  of  Aladdin  out  on  the  Cliffs,  but  their  ivy 
spreads  and  their  trees  are  grown.  They  are  comfortable 
and  home-like,  and  seem  to  hold  happy  people,  whose  hearts 
beat  in  unison  with  those  around,  although  their  owners' 
wealth  may  be  limited.  Some  of  the  tree-embowered  lanes 
leading  through  the  older  suburbs  of  Newport  are  charm- 
ing in  leafy  richness,  their  bordering  walls  and  footpaths 
and  the  canopies  of  foliage  overhead  combining  to  make 
exquisite  rural  beauty. 

NEWPORT   CHARACTERISTICS. 

William  Coddington,  whose  name  is  preserved  in  various 
ways,  but  whose  descendants  were  degenerate,  founded  New- 
port. It  is  said  that  in  early  times  the  place  was  chiefly  set- 
tled by  people  of  various  religious  sects  who  were  driven 
out  of  the  strictly  Puritan  New-England  settlements.  The 
Puritans  having  abandoned  England  because  they  objected 
to  a  State  Church,  they  forthwith  set  up  in  Massachusetts 
what  was  very  like  a  State  Church  of  their  own,  and  pro- 
ceeded immediately  to  make  it  hot  for  the  alleged  unbe- 
lievers. They  drove  out  both  William  Blackstone,  who 
founded  Boston,  and  Roger  Williams.  Blackstone,  when 
he  found  that  he  had  to  get  across  the  border  into  the  wil- 
derness and  live  a  hermit  on  the  bank  of  Blackstone  River, 
said,  "I  came  from  England  because  I  did  not  like  the 
Lords  Bishops,  but  I  can't  join  with  you,  because  I  would 
not  be  under  the  Lords  Brethren."  After  Blackstone  and 
Williams,  many  others  came  to  Rhode  Island  and  settled  at 


170  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR 

Newport,  for  there  they  enjoyed  the  corapletest  liberty  of 
conscience.  The  Quakers  were  unmolested,  and  came  in 
large  numbers ;  the  Baptists  built  a  meeting-house ;  the 
Hebrews  established  a  synagogue ;  the  sternest  doctrines 
of  the  Calvinists  were  preached ;  the  Moravians  held  their 
love-feasts ;  and  orthodox  Churchmen  prayed  for  the  king. 
All  shades  of  belief  and  dissenters  of  all  ilks,  with  many 
having  no  belief  at  all,  abounded  ;  so  that  the  fair  town  of 
Aquidneck  became  pervaded  with  such  an  atmosphere  of 
religious  irregularity  that  even  so  late  as  the  opening  of  the 
present  century  a  prominent  Connecticut  divine  declared 
that  an  alleged  laxity  of  morals  in  Stonington  was  due  to 
"  its  nearness  to  Rhode  Island."  Still,  despite  these  relig- 
ious differences,  the  colony  got  on  well,  and  in  time  Aquid- 
neck came  to  be  designated  as  the  "  Isle  of  Peace "  and 
the  "  Eden  of  America."  Dean  Berkeley  from  England 
visited  Newport  in  its  early  days,  and  gave  the  young  col- 
ony an  elevated  literary  tone.  An  Utopian  plan  for  con- 
verting the  Indians  brought  him  over,  but,  discovering  it  to 
be  impracticable,  he  returned  home  and  was  made  a  bishop. 
His  favorite  resort  is  yet  shown  at  the  part  of  the  Cliffs 
called  the  "  Hanging  Rocks,"  and  it  is  said  he  there  com- 
posed various  works,  including  the  noble  lyric  closing  with 
the  patriotic  prophecy  immortalized  in  Leutze's  grand  paint- 
ing in  the  Capitol  at  Washington : 

"Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way: 
The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
A  fifth  shall  end  the  drama  with  the  day ; 
Time's  noblest  ofl^spring  is  the  last." 

There  were  about  forty-five  hundred  people  in  the  town 
when  the  dean  was  at  Newport,  and  by  the  opening  of  the 
Revolution  they  had  grown  to  twelve  thousand,  when  the 
port  enjoyed  a  commerce  far  exceeding  that  of  New  York. 
That  war  almost  ruined  the  place,  it  being  first  held  by 
the  English,  and  afterward  by  the  French,  both  battering 


THE  OLD  STONE  MILL.  171 

and  maltreating  it,  so  that  it  emerged  from  tlie  conflict  in  a 
condition  of  dilapidation  and  poverty,  with  the  population 
reduced  to  barely  five  thousand.  The  French  loved  the 
island,  and  sought  after  the  war  to  have  it  annexed  to 
France,  but  this  was  not  to  be.  Business  growth  since  has 
been  fitful,  as  the  trade  is  gone,  but  Newport  is  an  import- 
ant naval  station  and  the  seat  of  the  torpedo-school,  so  that 
there  are  always  men-of-war  in  the  harbor. 

THE   OLD   STONE   MILL. 

The  fashionable  world,  however,  give  Newport  its  chief 
fame  and  have  made  it  such  a  noted  resort.  The  popular- 
ity is  due  to  the  balmy  climate  and  moderate  changes  in 
temperature,  conducing  alike  to  health  and  fertility.  The 
Casino  is  the  centre  of  fashionable  Newport,  a  building  in 
the  Old  English  style,  fronting  some  two  hundred  feet  on 
Bellevue  Avenue.  There  are  reading-rooms  and  a  theatre 
in  it,  with  a  garden  and  tennis-court  at  the  back.  During 
the  season  Bellevue  Avenue  is  the  daily  scene  of  a  stately 
procession  of  handsome  equipages  of  all  styles,  as  it  is 
decreed  that  fashionable  Newport  always  rides.  Richly- 
dressed  ladies  sit  back  in  the  state  befitting  the  multi-mil- 
lionaires who  thus  seek  dignified  recreation,  and  they  pass 
and  repass  during  the  afternoons  in  splendid  review.  To 
lengthen  the  outing,  a  circuit  is  taken  of  the  "  Ocean  Drive  " 
around  by  the  bay-side,  where  there  are  pleasant  views  over 
the  rocks  and  the  sea.  Thus  surrounded,  the  island  is  soon 
recognized  as  possessing  the  similarity  to  the  Isle  of  Rhodes 
that  named  it  Rhode  Island.  The  Indian  name  of  Aquid- 
neck,  meaning  "  floating  on  the  water,"  was  also  appropri- 
ately given,  for  the  distant  approach  makes  it  almost  seem 
to  stand  out  between  sea  and  sky,  as  if  the  delusion  of  a 
mirage  had  raised  it  above  the  clear  waters. 

In  the  early  times  the  town's  chief  benefactor  was  Judah 
Touro,  who  gave  it  Touro  Park.  His  father  was  the  rabbi 
of  Newport  synagogue,  and  Judah  spent  fifty  years  in  New 


172  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

Orleans  amassing  a  fortune,  which  was  bequeathed  to  vari- 
ous charities.  He  aided  the  building  of  Bunker  Hill 
Monument.  The  old  synagogue  was  the  first  built  in  this 
country,  dating  from  1762,  and  is  now  not  often  used.  It, 
with  the  beautiful  garden  adjacent  which  is  the  Jewish 
cemetery,  is  maintained  iu  perfect  order.  Touro  Park  is  a 
pretty  enclosure  in  the  older  town,  and  has  the  noted  me- 
morial around  which  Newport's  antiquarian  treasures  clus- 
ter— the  "  Old  Stone  Mill,"  a  small  round  tower  supported 
on  pillars,  between  which  are  arched  openings.  Some  of 
the  wise  men  endeavor  to  prove  that  it  was  built  by  the 
Norsemen  when  they  first  found  Vinland,  centuries  before 
Columbus,  but  the  more  practical  townsfolk  generally  in- 
cline to  the  belief  that  some  of  the  original  Dutchmen  from 
New  Amsterdam,  who  abounded  with  the  others  on  the 
island  in  the  early  days,  may  have  put  it  up  for  a  windmill 
to  grind  corn.  Nevertheless,  it  is  the  shrine — whether 
ancient  or  modern — at  which  Newport  worships,  and,  like 
the  "Charter  Oak"  and  "What  Cheer  Rock,"  embodies 
the  local  patriotic  pride  of  the  place.  Like  most  of  our 
seacoast  rocks,  the  Newport  Clifis  show  wonderful  forma- 
tions of  "  spouting  rocks "  and  chasms,  while  an  endless 
panorama  of  white-winged  vessels  and  swift  and  graceful 
steamers  sail  past  them.  And  as  we  look  out  from  them 
across  Narragansett  Bay,  far  off*  to  the  westward  stretches 
into  the  sea  the  long,  low  sand-spit  of  Point  Judith.  This 
dangerous  cape  was  named  from  Judith  Quincy,  who  was 
the  wife  of  John  Hull,  the  coiner  of  the  ancient  "  pine-tree 
shillings."  Judith  was  long  ago  laid  to  rest,  but  her  great 
landmark,  the  extremest  southern  land  of  the  State  of  Rhode 
Island,  ever  exists  at  the  entrance  of  Long  Island  Sound,  and 
is  a  headland  that  is  always  the  sailor's  dread. 


FEOM  NAEAGANSETT  TO  THE  SEA.  173 

XXIV. 

FROM   NARRAGANSETT  TO  THE  SEA. 

We  leave  the  pleasant  Isle  of  Aquidneck,  and,  passing 
northward  over  its  fertile  farms,  the  Old  Colony  Railroad 
carries  us  from  Newport,  along  Narragansett  Bay  and  the 
Taunton  River,  toward  the  New  England  metropolis,  Bos- 
ton. The  energetic  manufacturing  city  of  Fall  River  stands 
upon  one  of  the  pleasant  arms  that  make  the  head  of  the 
bay,  possessing  the  unusual  advantage  of  a  great  water- 
power  at  the  edge  of  a  good  harbor.  Consequently,  there 
have  gathered  upon  the  hillsides  sloping  down  to  the  bor- 
der of  the  bay  a  population  of  sixty  thousand,  and  a 
galaxy  of  big  mills  having  more  spindles  swiftly  turning 
in  the  manufacture  of  cottons  and  prints  than  any  other 
place  in  the  country.  Fall  River,  which  gives  this  indus- 
trious city  its  name,  while  but  a  small  stream,  yet  has  a 
large  volume  of  water,  drained  from  a  series  of  ponds  upon 
the  extensive  plateau  above.  It  is  scarcely  two  miles  long, 
and  within  half  a  mile  distance  falls  one  hundred  and  thir- 
ty-six feet.  Resting  upon  terraces  rising  one  above  the 
other  back  along  this  incline,  the  enormous  mills  are  built 
upon  the  rocky  banks  of  the  stream,  and  stand  up  in  pla- 
toons almost  like  the  ranks  of  a  regiment.  There  are  ex- 
tensive granite-quarries  in  the  adjacent  hills  that  have  fur- 
nished the  materials  for  these  huge  buildings,  owned  by  over 
a  score  of  manufacturing  companies,  having  thirty  million 
dollars  invested  and  employing  twenty  thousand  operatives, 
■who  make  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  pieces  of 
print  cloths  in  a  week.  Steam  aids  in  driving  the  machin- 
ery, as  the  water-power  w^as  long  since  outgrown ;  and  here 
flourish  the  French  Canadians  as  on  the  Blackstone  River, 
and  also  the  Irish.  Fall  River  is  in  Massachusetts,  and 
across  the  Taunton  River  it  looks  out  upon  Mount  Hope 
in  Rhode  Island,  King  Philip's  ancient  home.     Above,  at 


174  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

Dighton,  is  the  famous  "  Dighton  Rock,"  an  elongated  mass 
of  granite,  half  submerged  by  the  tide,  having  rude  inscrip- 
tions upon  it  in  an  unknown  language  which  antiquarians 
have  attributed  to  the  Norsemen.  These  sculptured  records, 
which  have  attracted  great  attention,  a  copy  having  been 
taken  by  the  Scandinavian  investigators  to  Copenhagen, 
are  gradually  fading  with  the  lapse  of  time.  Farther 
northward  the  railway  gradually  curves  around  through 
the  long  town  of  Taunton,  with  its  pleasant  cottages  and 
gardens — another  hive  of  industry.  The  rapids  of  the 
Taunton  River  make  a  water-power  that  originally  at- 
tracted factories,  and  they  now  make  both  locomotives 
and  tacks  there,  and  also  stove-linings,  copper-ware,  and 
screws,  besides  much  iron-work.  These  people  are  par- 
ticularly noted  for  their  tacks,  turning  out  no  less  than 
seven  hundred  kinds,  varying  from  a  heavy  boat-nail 
down  to  the  most  minute  particle  used  in  microscoj^ic 
work,  of  which  fully  four  thousand  are  requisite  to 
weigh  an   ounce. 

QUINCY   AND   ADAMS. 

We  are  again  in  Massachusetts,  and  the  railway  runs 
among  the  hills  and  rocks  and  wooden  houses  over  the 
farm-lands  of  Raynham  and  Easton.  ]\Iore  than  half  the 
shovels  used  throughout  the  whole  world  come  from  the 
great  Ames  factories  at  North  Easton.  This  Ames  family 
is  one  of  the  most  powerful  and  noted  in  the  "  Old  Bay 
State."  In  the  early  days  of  the  republic  the  eloquence 
of  Fisher  Ames  made  him  the  most  distinguished  orator 
of  his  time.  It  was  the  energy  of  Oakes  Ames  that  chiefly 
pushed  the  building  of  the  first  Pacific  railway.  Oliver 
Ames  is  the  governor  of  Massachusetts.  Their  family 
villas  abound  at  Easton,  but  we  soon  leave  them  behind, 
and,  gliding  past  sundry  shoemaking  villages  set  among 
the  hills,  with  some  stone-quarries  and  patches  of 'farm- 
land, we  reach  the  classic  grounds  of  Quincy.     Here  is  a 


QUINCY  AND  ADAMS.  175 

picturesque  agricultural  town  of  some  twelve  thousand 
population  stretching  down  to  the  sea,  with  a  broad  fringe 
of  salt-marshes  in  front.  It  is  famous  as  the  home  of  the 
greatest  families  of  the  original  colony  of  Massachusetts 
Bay — Quincy  and  Adams.  Its  antique  church,  known  as 
the  Adams  Temple,  has  in  the  yard  the  graves  of  the  two 
Presidents,  father  and  son,  the  elder  and  younger  Adams, 
while  their  family,  in  yet  younger  generations,  is  still  dis- 
tinguished in  Massachusetts.  That  wonderful  old  fellow 
whose  fame  was  made  immortal  by  the  "  big  round  hand  " 
with  which  he  leads  the  signatures  to  the  Declaration  of 
Independence — John  Hancock — was  a  native  of  Quincy. 
This  was  among  the  earliest  Massachusetts  settlements, 
having  been  colonized  by  companies  of  Episcopalians  at 
a  place  called  "Merry  Mount."  They  were  such  jovial 
peoj)le  that  the  strict  Puritans  at  Plymouth  were  aghast, 
and  sent  Miles  Standish,  with  the  entire  army  of  the 
colony,  against  them,  and,  capturing  the  leaders,  shipped 
them  captives  home  to  England.  This  severe  treatment 
had  to  be  administered  a  second  time  before  they  were  sub- 
dued. Thomas  Morton  of  this  colony,  who  was  among 
those  twice  banished  to  England,  was  the  author  of  the 
New  England  Canaan,  giving  a  curious  account  of  the  In- 
dians, saying :  "  The  Indians  may  be  rather  accompted  as 
living  richly,  wanting  nothing  that  is  needful,  and  to  be 
commended  for  leading  a  contented  life,  the  younger  being 
ruled  by  the  elder  and  the  elder  ruled  by  the  Powahs,  and 
the  Powahs  are  ruled  by  the  Devill ;  and  then  you  may 
imagine  what  good  rule  is  like  to  be  amongst  them."  This 
theory  seems  to  have  been  generally  prevalent  among  the 
early  colonists,  for  Cotton  Mather  wrote  that  "  the  Indians 
are  under  the  special  protection  of  the  Devill." 

To  the  westward  of  Quincy  rise  the  "  Blue  Hills  of  Mil- 
ton," their  highest  dome-like  summit  being  elevated  six 
hundred  feet  and  giving  a  splendid  view  over  sea  and  land 
for  many  miles  around.    These  are  granite  hills,  the  Quincy 


176  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

granites  being  sent  far  and  near  and  used  in  some  of  the 
finest  buildings  of  our  chief  cities.  It  was  to  get  out  this 
granite  that  the  earliest  rude  railway  in  this  country  was 
built,  a  line  three  miles  long,  constructed  in  1826  from  the 
Quincy  quarries  out  to  Neponset  River,  the  cars  being 
drawn  by  horses.  It  is  now  the  "  Granite  Branch  "  of  the 
Old  Colony  road.  The  geologists  say  these  hills  of  Milton 
are  an  older  formation  than  the  Alps,  and  their  earliest 
English  name,  designated,  it  is  said,  by  King  Charles,  was 
the  "  Cheviot  Hills." 

MASSACHUSETTS  BAY. 

To  the  eastward  of  these  noted  hills  the  shore  runs  out 
in  bold  bluffs,  overlooking  Boston  harbor.  The  sea-coast 
of  Massachusetts  is  of  very  irregular  formation,  and  the 
deep  indentations  have  given  it  the  well-known  name  of 
the  "  Old  Bay  State."  The  chief  of  these  indentations  is 
Massachusetts  Bay,  thrust  up  deeply  into  the  land,  with  the 
granite  buttress  of  Cape  Ann  stretching  far  out  into  the 
Atlantic  for  its  northern  boundary  and  the  broad  ocean 
spreading  in  front.  Far  off  to  the  southward  the  land 
makes  the  wide  sweep  around  to  the  east  and  then  to  the 
north  that  forms  the  curious  hook  of  Cape  Cod,  enclosing 
Cape  Cod  Bay.  Across  the  neck  of  this  cape,  and  deeply 
indented  on  its  southern  side,  is  Buzzard's  Bay.  Upon  one 
of  its  numerous  arms  is  the  town  of  New  Bedford,  the  head- 
quarters of  what  is  left  of  the  American  whale-fishery,  which 
is  still  doing,  in  the  decay  of  that  noted  industry,  more 
whale-catching  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world  combined. 
This  was  the  ancient  Acushnet  of  the  Indians,  settled  by 
Quakers  on  lands  owned  by  the  English  family  of  Russell, 
whose  chiefs  are  the  dukes  of  Bedford,  and  hence  the  name 
of  the  town.  Next  to  Boston,  New  Bedford  has  the  best 
harbor  on  the  Massachusetts  coast.  Massachusetts  Bay, 
however,  through  its  deep  indentation  into  the  land  makes 
the  finest  of  all  these  harbors.     One  of  the  boldest  bluffs 


MAESHFIELD  AND  DUXBUEY.  177 

thrust  into  it  is  the  peninsula  of  Squantum,  thus  named  in 
memory  of  the  old  sachem  who  ruled  all  the  country  round 
about  when  Boston  was  first  colonized,  and  who  had  his 
home  on  a  hill  near  by.  From  this  circumstance  was  de- 
rived the  name  of  Massachusetts.  The  land  was  shaped 
like  an  Indian  arrow-head,  which  in  their  language  was 
called  jMos,  while  the  Indian  for  hill  is  Wachusett.  Hence 
the  sachem's  home  was  called  "  Moswachusett,"  whence  was 
derived  "  Massachusetts  "  as  a  name  for  the  bay  and  State. 
Sturdy  old  Squantum  was  the  firm  friend  of  the  colonists, 
and  when  he  was  dying  he  besought  Governor  Bradford  to 
pray  for  him,  "  that  he  might  go  to  the  Englishman's  God 
in  heaven." 

MAESHFIELD   AND    DUXBURY. 

We  skirt  along  the  southern  coast  of  Massachusetts  Bay, 
beyond  Squantum,  bound  to  the  "  Old  Colony  "  of  Plymouth, 
the  earliest  New  England  settlement,  located  upon  the  bor- 
der of  the  first  harbor  south  of  the  bay,  about  forty  miles 
from  Boston.  On  the  coast  below  Nantasket  Beach  are  the 
rocky  shores  of  Cohasset  and  Scituate,  the  former  a  favorite 
summer  resort  for  American  actors,  who  have  established 
there  several  pleasant  villas  by  the  sea,  and  where  the  rocks 
yield  abundant  mosses.  Minot's  Ledge,  a  dangerous  reef 
in  the  offing,  is  guarded  by  the  leading  beacon  of  the  New 
England  coasts.  To  the  southward  there  are  broad  salt- 
marshes,  and  among  them  we  come  to  Marshfield,  the  home 
of  Daniel  Webster,  whose  remains  lie  in  an  ancient  grave- 
yard on  an  ocean-viewing  hill  not  far  away.  His  two  sons 
— Edward,  killed  in  the  Mexican  War,  and  Fletcher,  killed 
at  Bull  Run — lie  beside  him ;  but  the  old  homestead  has 
gone  to  strangers,  the  house  has  been  burnt,  and  a  modern 
ornamental  villa  replaces  it.  The  grave  of  the  Pilgrim 
governor  Winslow  is  close  by  Webster's,  and  the  quaint  old 
Winslow  House,  where  he  lived,  is  near  by.  We  are  within 
the  domain  of  the  "  Old  Colony,"  and  everything  is  redo- 
12 


178  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

lent  of  Puritan  memories.  A  short  distance  beyond  is  one 
of  those  long  peninsulas  of  sand  and  rocks  that  abound  on 
the  Massachusetts  coast,  projecting  about  six  miles  south- 
eastward into  the  sea,  and  terminating  in  a  knob  called  the 
"  Gurnet,"  with  hook  turned  inward.  This  elongated  sand- 
strip  is  Duxbury  Beach,  having  within  it  the  northern  por- 
tion of  Plymouth  Bay,  w4th  the  town  of  Duxbury  upon 
the  mainland  inside,  a  fishing  village  having  about  three 
thousand  population.  This  place  is  probably  best  known 
as  the  American  terminus  of  the  French  Atlantic  cable. 
It  was  at  Duxbury  that  Ralph  Partridge  was  the  first 
regular  pastor,  whom  Cotton  Mather  described  as  having 
"the  innocence  of  a  dove  and  the  loftiness  of  an  eagle." 
The  region  was  allotted  by  the  Pilgrims  in  the  first  settle- 
ment to  their  youngest  member,  John  Alden,  and  to  their 
military  chieftain.  Captain  Miles  Standish.  Its  name  came 
from  Duxbury  Hall,  Lancashire,  in  England,  the  old  seat 
of  the  Standish  family.  The  redoubtable  Miles,  whom 
Longfellow  has  made  the  hero  of  his  poem,  and  whose 
alleged  love-affairs  have  had  much  to  do  with  Italian 
operas  and  New  England  romances,  commanded  the  Pil- 
grim standing  army  of  twelve  men.  He  did  not  belong  to 
their  Church,  but  he  had  seen  much  service  in  the  wars  in 
Flanders,  and  was  described  as  "  a  short  man,  very  brave, 
but  impetuous  and  choleric,  and  his  name  soon  became 
a  terror  to  all  hostile  Indians."  Standish  lived  upon  the 
"  Captain's  Hill "  out  on  the  peninsula,  the  highest  land 
thereabout,  and  rising  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  upon  a 
broad  point  projecting  into  Plymouth  Bay.  As  we  are 
carried  by  the  railway-train  along  the  western  shore  of 
Kingston  Bay  w^ithin  this  point,  the  bare-topped,  broad, 
oval-shaped  hill  is  seen  rising  across  the  w^ater,  with  an 
unfinished  monument  to  Miles  upon  the  highest  point.  This 
may  have  been  a  splendid  lookout  to  watch  for  hostile  sav- 
ages, but  it  seems  a  rather  bleak  place  to  select  for  a  home. 
Not  a  tree  appears  on  the  top,  but  there  is  some  scrub  tim- 


THE  OLD  COLONY.  179 

ber  on  the  sides,  with  grass  growing  above.  Beyond  this 
hill  the  long  Duxbury  Beach  projects  out,  ending  in  the 
high  Gurnet  with  twin  lighthouses,  and  then  hooking  in- 
ward to  another  bold  terminating  bulb,  the  headland  of 
Saquish.  To  the  northward  is  Clark's  Island,  a  similarly 
round-topped  mass  rising  from  the  water.  As  we  skirt 
around  Kingston  Bay  these  three  knobs  keep  constantly 
in  view,  but  change  their  relative  positions,  while  inland 
the  coast  runs  up  into  more  hills,  and  to  the  southward  the 
long  ridge  of  Manomet  projects  out  to  the  sea.  We  swiftly 
enter  Plymouth,  with  its  great  cordage-factory  down  by 
the  railway,  while  on  an  eminence  a  short  distance  behind 
it  is  the  huge  granite  monument  surmounted  by  the  colossal 
stone  statue  of  Faith,  which  has  been  erected  to  the  mem- 
ory of  the  Pilgrim  forefathers,  and  thus  guards  their  earl- 
iest settlement. 


XXV. 

THE    OLD    COLONY. 


We  have  come  to  Plymouth,  the  earliest  settlement  of 
New  England,  which  saw  the  beginning  of  the  greatest 
race  that  has  made  its  impress  upon  the  American  cha- 
racter. Here  the  Pilgrims  landed  upon  Plymouth  Eock 
in  December,  1620,  to  found,  amid  the  winter  hardships 
of  a  bleak  and  inhospitable  coast,  the  hardy  and  energetic 
Yankee  race.  This  "  Old  Colony  "  has  a  little  landlocked 
harbor  behind  a  long  and  narrow  sand  beach  projected 
northward  from  the  ridge  of  Manomet  below,  and,  like  a 
breakwater,  protecting  the  wharves  from  the  waves.  This 
harbor  has  only  shallow  water,  however,  and  does  not  seem 
to  get  much  attention  in  "  river-and-harbor  bills,"  so  that 


180  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR 

there  is  little  trade  by  sea.  The  town  of  Plymouth  spreads 
upon  the  bluff  shores  of  the  harbor  and  back  across  a  pla- 
teau to  the  hills  in  the  rear.  About  seven  thousand  five 
hundred  people  live  here,  the  descendants  of  the  Pilgrims 
being  active  manufacturers.  Besides  their  great  cordage 
business,  they  make  nails  and  tacks  and  also  weave  cotton 
and  Avool,  with  other  things,  and  quite  a  fishing  fleet  belongs 
to  the  place.  The  first  impression  made  on  the  visitor  by 
this  famous  Pilgrim  settlement,  it  must  be  confessed,  seems 
disappointing,  for  this  oldest  town  in  New  England  looks 
almost  as  if  newly  built.  Yet  the  devotion  to  the  memory 
giving  the  town  its  deathless  fame  is  marked,  for  every  one 
appears  imbued  with  its  spirit,  and  the  Forefathers  are 
probably  better  thought  of  in  Plymouth  to-day  than  ever 
before,  as  everything  remaining  as  relics  of  them  is  being 
restored  and  perpetuated.  There  is  not  much,  however, 
that  can  be  seen  of  the  olden  time.  The  ocean  is  here, 
and  the  little  harbor  and  the  hills  and  original  streets, 
but  nothing  else  excepting  a  few  carefully-cherished  relics 
of  the  Mayflower's  passengers  that  have  been  gathered 
together.  It  seems  that  the  choice  of  Plymouth  as  their 
landing-place  was  due  mainly  to  necessity,  when  protracted 
explorations  had  failed  to  find  a  better  place  and  the  com- 
ing of  winter  had  compelled  a  landing  somewhere.  The 
actual  location  appears  to  have  been  illy  considered,  the 
Pilgrims  themselves  being  far  from  satisfied  with  it ;  and 
this  explains  why  Plymouth  has  declined  in  importance 
and  been  so  greatly  overshadowed  by  its  neighbors. 

After  the  little  ship  Mayflower  entered  Cape  Cod  Bay 
several  weeks  were  passed  in  making  explorations,  and 
finally,  upon  a  Sunday  in  December,  1620,  there  was  a 
landing  made  upon  Clark's  Island,  where  religious  services 
were  conducted,  being  the  first  held  in  New  England.  Upon 
the  most  elevated  part  of  this  island  there  is  a  huge  boul- 
der about  tv/elve  feet  high,  which  is  called,  from  some  local 
event,  the  "  Election  Rock."     Upon  its  face  are  carved  the 


THE  PILGRIM  HALL.  '  181 

words,  taken  from  Mourt's  Relation,  the  ancient  chronicle 
describing  the  voyage  of  the  Mayflower : 

"  Upon  the  Sabbath-Day  wee  rested,  20  December,  1620." 

There  were  eighteen  of  them  who  thus  "  rested "  after 
their  shallop  in  making  the  landing  had  been  almost  ship- 
wrecked. Upon  the  next  day  they  sailed  across  the  bay 
to  the  mainland,  and  their  first  landing  was  then  made  at 
Plymouth,  while  upon  the  second  day,  December  22d,  the 
entire  company  came  ashore  and  the  settlement  began. 

THE   PILGRIM   HALL. 

Within  "Pilgrim  Hall,"  a  neat  fireproof  building  upon 
the  chief  street,  are  kept  the  precious  relics  of  the  May- 
flower, with  authentic  portraits  of  the  leading  Pilgrims 
and  several  fine  paintings  illlustrating  this  great  event. 
Among  the  most  interesting  relics  are  autograph  writings 
establishing  a  chain  of  acquaintanceship  connecting  the 
Pilgrims  with  the  present  day.  The  first-born  of  the 
infant  colony  was  Peregrine  White,  born  on  the  May- 
flower after  she  came  into  Cape  Cod  Bay,  in  November, 
1620,  and  he  was  only  a  month  old  when  the  Pilgrims 
landed.  This  baby,  surviving  all  their  hardships,  lived  to 
a  ripe  old  age,  and  "  Grandfather  Cobb,"  who  was  born  in 
1694,  knew  him  well.  Cobb  in  his  day  lived  to  be  the  old- 
est man  in  New  England,  his  life  covering  space  in  three 
centuries,  for  he  exceeded  one  hundred  and  seven  years, 
dying  in  1801.  William  R.  Sever,  born  in  1790,  knew 
Cobb  and  recollected  him  well,  and,  living  until  he  was 
ninety-seven  years  old,  died  in  1887.  Thus  three  lives 
connected  the  Pilgrim  landing  with  the  present  day  through 
a  longevity  that  is  remarkable,  and  united  they  cover  a 
period  of  two  hundred  and  eighty-seven  years.  The  old 
cradle  that  rocked  Peregrine  White  on  the  Mayflower  and 
after  he  was  landed  is  still  preserved — an  upright,  stiflf*- 
backed,  wicker-work   basket   upon  rude  wooden   rockers. 


J  82  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

The  chief  paintings  upon  the  walls  of  the  Pilgrim  Hall 
represent  the  departure  from  the  Delft  in  Holland,  the 
signing  of  the  memorable  compact  on  the  Mayflower,  and 
the  landing.  The  latter  is  a  reproduction  of  the  painting 
in  the  Capitol  Rotunda  at  Washington.  Some  of  the  old 
straight-backed  chairs  of  the  original  Puritans,  with  their 
pots  and  platters,  also  Miles  Standish's  sword,  and  much 
else  of  antiquarian  value,  are  kept  in  the  hall.  The  court- 
house, this  being  the  county-seat,  has  the  original  records 
of  the  Plymouth  Colony,  the  first  allotment  of  lands  among 
the  settlers,  their  deeds,  agreements,  and  wills ;  so  that  there 
is  a  perfect  foundation  in  these  records  for  the  land-titles. 
Here  also  is  displayed  the  patent  given  the  colony  by  Earl 
Warwick  in  1629.  The  curious  handwriting  of  these 
quaint  old  records,  with  the  ink  j)artly  fading  out,  also 
tells  how  they  divided  their  cattle  when  it  was  determined 
to  change  from  the  original  plan  of  holding  them  in  com- 
mon. The  signatures  of  the  Pilgrims  are  attached  to  many 
of  these  valuable  documents,  and  one  of  them  in  old  Gov- 
ernor Bradford's  penmanship  is  the  famous  order  establish- 
ing trial  by  jury  in  the  colony. 

THE   PILGRIM    ROCK. 

Every  one  knows  Mrs.  Heman's  beautiful  hymn  of  the 
lauding  of  the  Pilgrims,  beginning, 

"The  breaking  waves  dashed  high 
On  a  stern  and  rock-bound  coast." 

Yet,  unfortunately  for  the  poetry  about  this  "stern  and 
rock-bound  coast,"  there  is  sand  everywhere,  and  scarcely 
a  rock  or  boulder  can  be  seen  for  miles,  excepting  the  little 
one  on  which  they  landed.  Down  by  the  water-side  is  this 
most  noted  stone — the  "  Forefathers'  Pock,"  the  sacred  stone 
worshipped  by  all  the  Pilgrim  descendants.  It  is  a  gray 
sienite  boulder,  oval-shaped  and  about  six  feet  long.  Some 
time  ago  it  was  unfortunately  split,  and  the  parts  have  been 


THE  PILGRIM  EOCK.  183 

cemented  together.  This  boulder  lay  on  the  sandy  beach 
of  the  bay  at  the  time  of  the  landing,  and  was  almost  soli- 
tary among  these  sands.  Unlike  the  coast  north  of  Boston 
and  the  verge  of  Manomet  to  the  southward,  this  sandy 
shore  was  then  as  now  almost  without  rocks  of  any  kind. 
This  boulder  had  been  dropped  here  in  one  of  the  early 
geological  periods,  and  lay  partly  in  the  water,  thus  mak- 
ing a  boat-landing  that  was  naturally  attractive  to  the 
water-w^eary  Pilgrims  who  came  coasting  along  in  their 
shallop  from  Clark's  Island,  so  that  they  stepped  out  upon 
it  to  get  ashore  dryshod.  It  has  since  been  elevated  several 
feet  to  a  higher  level  than  that  originally  occupied,  but 
otherwise  has  been  continued  in  the  same  local  position. 
This  sacred  rock  has  been  surmounted  by  an  imposing 
granite  canopy,  and  is  railed  in  for  protection  from  the 
vandalism  of  the  relic-hunter.  There  is  a  sort  of  fissure 
in  its  face  that  seems  like  the  impress  of  a  foot,  and  the 
numerals  "  1620  "  are  rudely  carved  upon  its  side.  Behind 
the  rock  and  its  canopy  rises  the  bluff  shore  into  Cole's 
Hill,  having  its  steep  slopes  neatly  sodded,  this  having  been 
the  place  up  which  the  Pilgrims  climbed  after  their  landing. 
A  wharf  is  built  out  in  front  of  the  rock,  and  this  takes 
care  of  most  of  the  commerce  of  the  port.  Across  the  bay 
in  front  spreads  the  narrow  sandspit  protecting  the  harbor, 
while  on  the  right  hand  is  the  long  ridge  of  Manomet,  and 
distant  sand-dunes  appear  along  Duxbury  Beach  over  the 
water  to  the  left.  Bordering  the  harbor  are  a  number  of 
frame  houses  of  little  pretension,  and  in  them  is  conducted 
much  of  the  business  of  the  town.  In  the  distance,  off  to 
the  northward,  rises  the  "  Captain's  Hill "  of  Duxbury,  sur- 
mounted with  its  unfinished  monument.  Upon  Cole's  Hill, 
behind  the  rock,  was  the  Pilgrims'  first  burial-place,  and 
here  were  interred  about  half  the  intrepid  band,  Avho  died 
from  the  privations  of  the  first  winter.  Their  bones  have 
been  occasionally  washed  out  by  heavy  rains  or  found  in 
digging  for  the  foundations   of  buildings;   but  all  these 


184  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

have  been  carefully  collected,  and  several  of  the  dead  thus 
exposed  have  again  been  entombed  in  the  granite  canopy 
over  the  noted  rock  on  which  their  feet  had  pressed.  There 
is  a  street  a  little  way  to  the  southward — Ley  den  Street, 
running  from  the  water's  edge  back  up  the  slope  for  some 
distance  to  the  side  of  the  "  Burial  Hill "  which  was  the 
earliest  cemetery  in  this  country.  This  street  was  the  first 
highway  laid  out  in  New  England,  although  it  did  not  get 
its  present  name  until  long  afterward.  Upon  this  street 
the  Pilgrims  built  their  first  rude  houses,  the  lots  stretching 
from  it  farther  southward  to  the  "  Town  Brook,"  just  be- 
yond, which  supplied  them  with  good  water,  and  was  the 
main  cause  of  selecting  this  place  for  the  settlement. 

THE   PILGEIM   STORY. 

Mourfs  Relation,  written  by  one  of  the  actors  in  this  rare 
historical  drama,  tells  the  story  of  the  landing.  He  de- 
scribes their  protracted  explorations  and  final  hasty  selec- 
tion of  this  place,  and  thus  continues  :  "  So,  in  the  morning, 
after  we  had  called  on  God  for  direction,  we  came  to  this 
resolution,  to  go  presently  ashore  again  and  to  take  a  better 
view  of  two  places  which  we  thought  most  fitting  for  us ; 
for  we  could  not  now  take  time  for  further  search  or  con- 
sideration, our  victuals  being  much  spent,  especially  our 
beer,  and  it  being  now  the  19th  of  December.  After  our 
landing  and  viewing  the  places  so  well  as  we  could,  we 
came  to  a  conclusion,  by  most  voices,  to  set  on  a  high 
ground,  where  there  is  a  great  deal  of  land  cleared  and 
hath  been  planted  with  corn  three  or  four  years  ago ;  and 
there  is  a  very  sweet  brook  runs  under  the  hillside,  and 
many  delicate  springs  of  as  good  water  as  can  be  drunk, 
and  where  we  may  harbor  our  shallops  and  boats  exceeding 
well ;  and  in  this  brook  fish  in  their  season  ;  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  river  also  much  corn-ground  cleared.  In  one 
field  is  a  great  hill  on  which  we  point  to  make  a  platform 
and  plant  our  ordnance,  which  will  command  all  around 


THE  PILGKIM  STOEV  185 

about.  From  thence  we  may  see  into  the  bay  and  far  into 
the  sea,  and  we  may  see  thence  Cape  Cod.  Our  greatest 
hibor  will  be  the  fetching  of  our  wood,  which  is  half  a 
quarter  of  an  English  mile ;  but  there  is  enough  so  far  off. 
What  people  inhabit  here  we  yet  know  not,  for  as  yet  we 
have  seen  none.  So  there  we  made  our  rendezvous  and  a 
place  for  some  of  our  people,  about  twenty,  resolving  in 
the  morning  to  come  all  ashore  and  to  build  houses." 

They  began  about  a  week  afterward  to  construct  their 
fort  on  the  hill,  and  allotted  their  plots  of  land  on  the 
highway  afterward  named  Leyden  Street.  Thus  began  the 
town,  behind  Avhich  rose  two  hills,  the  one  now  known  as 
the  "  Burial  Hill "  being  at  the  head  of  this  street,  and 
elevated  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  sea. 
This  was  an  admirable  place  for  a  fort,  and  Miles  Standish 
with  his  military  eye  soon  selected  its  site,  overlooking  Ley- 
den Street  and  the  "  sweet  brook  "  beyond,  as  the'  location 
for  their  permanent  defensive  work.  Here,  in  1622,  was 
built  the  square  timber  block-house  that  made  them  both 
a  fort  and  a  church,  the  entire  settlement  as  it  then  existed 
being  enclosed  by  a  stockade  for  further  protection.  This 
caused  the  hill  to  be  then  named  Fort  Hill,  and  it  was  not 
until  years  afterward  that  it  was  used  as  a  cemetery  and 
called  "  Burial  Hill,"  the  first  interments  beirig  some  of  the 
original  Pilgrims  after  the  graveyard  on  the  slope  of  Cole's 
Hill  down  by  the  water-side  was  abandoned.  On  this  hill 
also  was  built  the  "  AVatch-House,"  where  an  outlook  was 
kept  for  the  Indians.  Stones  now  mark  the  places  both  of 
the  fort  and  watch-house,  and  surrounding  them  are  the 
graves  of  several  of  the  Mayflower's  passengers,  with  many 
of  their  descendants,  the  dark  slate  gravestones  having 
been  brought  out  from  England.  These  old  stones  are 
now  carefully  encased  in  zinc,  to  prevent  relic-hunters 
from  chipping  off  and  running  away  with  what  is  left  of 
them.  From  this  lofty  Burial  Hill  there  is  a  splendid  out- 
look over  the  harbor  and  the  open  sea  beyond  to  the  dis- 


186  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

tant  yellow  sand-streak  of  Cape  Cod,  and  also  landward 
over  the  adjacent  valleys. 

Northward  about  half  a  mile  is  the  other  hill,  rising 
somewhat  higher,  and  upon  it  has  been  placed  the  great 
monument  to  the  Pilgrims  which  was  dedicated  on  August 
1,  1889,  and  is  seen  from  afar  on  entering  the  town. 
This  is  a  massive  granite  shaft  surmounted  by  the  largest 
stone  statue  in  existence — a  colossal  figure  of  Faith.  This 
splendid  memorial  is  adorned  by  other  statues  around  the 
base  emblematical  of  the  principles  of  the  settlement,  and 
upon  it  are  representations  of  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims, 
their  names,  and  the  great  compact  they  made  on  the  May- 
flower. It  was  into  the  infant  colony  of  Plymouth,  after 
some  weeks  of  careful  parley  and  investigation,  that  the 
stalwart  Indian  Samoset  strode,  and  paved  the  way  for  the 
subsequent  treaty  and  alliance  with  Massasoit,  w^hich  was 
for  many  years  scrupulously  observed  by  both  parties,  and 
was  not  broken  until  after  he  died.  Soon  afterward  Canon- 
icus  sent  a  sheaf  of  arrows  bouud  with  a  rattlesnake's  skin 
to  Governor  Bradford  as  a  token  of  hostility.  The  sturdy 
old  governor  quickly  filled  the  skin  with  powder  and  shot 
and  sent  it  back  to  Canonicus,  who  understood  the  grim 
challenge  and  restrained  his  tribe.  But  differences  fol- 
lowed, culminating  in  "  King  Philip's  War,"  in  which  both 
sides  fiercely  fought  for  extermination.  To-day,  two  hun- 
dred and  sixty-nine  years  after  their  feet  pressed  the  sacred 
rock,  this  landing-place  of  the  Pilgrims  is  a  peaceful,  indus- 
trious town,  the  home  of  busy  millworkers,  like  so  many 
other  New  England  towns,  and  in  summer  a  favorite  resort 
for  hundreds  then  seeking  the  seaside.  Here  began  the 
New  England  settlement  which  was  the  dawning  of  the 
nation  ruling  America,  with  the  founding  of  the  greatest 
race  on  this  continent. 


THE  MODERN  ATHENS.  187 

XXVI. 

THE  MODERN  ATHENS. 

The  railway  approaching  the  great  New  England  me- 
tropolis from  the  south,  skirts  the  harbor  and  crosses  the 
narrow  Fort  Point  channel  separating  South  Boston  from 
the  city  proper,  and  enters  the  terminal  station  just  beyond. 
To  the  northward  the  city  rises  gradually,  ridge  above  ridge, 
until  the  centre  culminates  in  the  famous  Beacon  Hill,  sur- 
mounted by  the  brightly-gilded  dome  and  lantern  top  of 
the  Massachusetts  State-House.  From  all  sides  the  land, 
with  its  varied  surfaces  of  hill  and  valley,  slopes  toward  the 
water-courses  running  into  the  deep  indentation  of  Massa- 
chusetts Bay,  and  thus  adding  to  the  facilities  of  Boston 
harbor.  The  rounded  peninsula  forming  the  original  Bos- 
ton was  the  Indian  "  Shawmut,"  or  the  "  sweet  watery,"  a 
name  preserved  in  many  ways  in  the  modern  city.  It  is 
said  that  hunting  for  good  water  by  the  first  colony  led  to 
this  settlement  at  Shawmut,  the  colonists  who  had  come 
from  Salem  crossing  over  from  Charlestown  in  1630,  and 
finding  William  Blackstone,  of  whom  I  have  already  writ- 
ten, as  the  sole  white  inhabitant  of  the  place,  he  having 
lived  there  in  solitude  for  about  five  years.  The  old  gen- 
tleman was  not  partial  to  having  near  neighbors,  so  they 
finally  bought  him  out  and  got  the  whole  town-site  for 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  which  was  the  value 
of  all  Boston  in  1634,  when  Blackstone,  disgusted  with  the 
Puritan  "  Lords  Brethren,"  avoided  them  by  going  farther 
into  the  wilderness.  The  two  leading  men  of  the  colony 
came  from  Boston  in  England,  and  hence  the  adoption  of 
the  name,  but  the  younger  city  has  fiir  outstripped  the 
elder,  as  more  than  half  a  million  people  are  now  living 
around  Boston  harbor  in  the  various  towns  and  suburbs 
that  make  up  the  "  Hub  of  the  Universe."  When  this 
first  colony  was  established  in  1630  one  of  the  depressed 


188  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

settlers  described  Shawmut  as  "  a  hideous  wilderness,  pos- 
sessed by  barbarous  Indians,  very  cold,  sickly,  rocky,  bar- 
ren, unfit  for  culture,  and  like  to  keep  the  people  miser- 
able." Yet  the  settlement,  though  so  inauspiciously  begun, 
persisted  in  growing,  and,  as  an  early  historian  says, "  Phil- 
adelphia was  a  forest  and  New  York  was  an  insignificant 
village  long  after  its  rival,  Boston,  had  become  a  great 
commercial  town."  In  1663  a  visitor  from  England  de- 
scribed  the  place,  and  wrote  that  "  the  buildings  are  hand- 
some, joining  one  to  the  other  as  in  London,  with  many 
large  streets,  most  of  them  paved  with  pebble-stones.  In 
the  high  street  toward  the  Common  there  are  faire  houses, 
some  of  stone."  The  young  colony  encouraged  commerce 
and  became  possessed  of  many  ships,  the  earliest  built  at 
Boston  being  the  bark  Blessing  of  the  Bay,  of  thirty  tons, 
which  soon  got  into  lucrative  trade.  This  noted  vessel, 
which  was  considered  a  wonder  in  her  time,  belonged  to 
Governor  John  Winthrop,  for  many  years  the  ruler  of 
Boston.  He  is  described  as  an  amiable  gentleman,  who 
believed  in  moderate  aristocratic  principles.  In  one-  of  his 
messages,  which  always  contained  solid  chunks  of  wisdom, 
was  the  announcement  that  "  the  best  part  of  a  community 
is  always  the  least,  and  of  that  part  the  wiser  are  still  less." 
His  descendant  in  the  sixth  generation,  Hon.  Bobert  C. 
Winthrop,  still  lives  in  Boston  at  a  venerable  age,  one  of 
the  leading  citizens.  He  was  formerly  Speaker  of  the 
House  at  Washington. 

BOSTON   HARBOR. 

The  harbor  of  Boston  covers  a  surface  of  about  seventy- 
five  square  miles,  having  various  arms,  such  as  South  Bos- 
ton Bay,  Dorchester  Bay,  and  the  estuaries  of  the  Charles, 
Mystic,  and  Neponset  Rivers.  There  is  much  natural  beauty 
in  the  harbor,  heightened  by  the  adornments  of  buildings 
and  other  improvements,  its  surface  gradually  narrowing 
toward  the  city  and  dotted  with  craggy,  undulating  islands 


BOSTON  HAKBOR.  189 

having  long  stretches  of  bordering  beaches,  interspersed 
with  jutting  cliffs,  broad  promontories,  and  both  low  and 
lofty  shores.  The  coasts  are  lined  wdth  villages  that  grad- 
ually merge  into  the  suburbs  of  the  great  city.  In  this 
extensive  harbor  there  are  at  least  fifty  large  and  small 
islands,  and  most  of  these,  which  were  bare  in  Winthrop's 
day,  are  now  crowned  by  lighthouses,  forts,  almshouses,  hos- 
pitals, and  other  institutions,  several  of  them  being  most 
striking  buildings  that  give  a  pleasing  variety  to  the  scene. 
The  splendid  guiding  beacon  for  the  harbor-entrance,  Bos- 
ton Light,  stands  upon  Lighthouse  Island  at  about  one  hun- 
dred feet  elevation,  with  a  revolving  light  visible  sixteen 
miles.  George's  Island,  near  the  entrance  and  command- 
ing the  approach  from  the  open  sea,  has  upon  it  the  chief 
defensive  work  of  Boston,  Fort  Warren,  about  two  miles 
west  of  Boston  Light.  Farther  in  is  Castle  Island,  with 
Fort  Independence,  the  successor  of  the  earliest  Boston 
fort,  the  "Castle,"  built  in  1634.  Opposite  and  about  one 
mile  northward  is  Governor's  Island,  containing  the  incom- 
plete works  of  Fort  Winthrop.  This  island  was  originally 
the  "  Governor's  Garden "  of  old  John  Winthrop,  and  he 
paid  a  yearly  rent  of  two  bushels  of  apples  for  it.  The 
part  of  the  island  not  held  by  the  Government  is  said  to 
still  continue  in  possession  of  his  family.  These  forts  are 
nearly  all  constructed  of  Quincy  granite,  but  none  of  them 
have  yet  seen  practical  warfare  beyond  the  imprisonment 
of  Confederates  in  Fort  Warren.  Upon  Long  Island,  which 
covers  considerable  area  and  is  a  high,  craggy  place,  there 
is  another  lighthouse.  To  the  eastward  is  a  low,  rocky  islet 
bearing  as  a  warning  to  the  mariner  a  curious  stone  monu- 
ment which  is  known  as  "Nix's  ]Mate."  Here,  it  is  said,  the 
colonists  used  to  hang  the  pirates  caught  off  the  New  Eng- 
land coasts.  There  are  also  Deer  and  Rainsford  Islands, 
occupied  by  the  city  hospitals  and  reformatory  institutions. 
Upon  Thompson's  Island,  which  is  fantastically  shaped  like 
an  unfledged  chicken,  is  an  asylum  and  farm-school  for  in- 


190  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

digent  boys.  Spectacle,  Half  Moon,  and  Apple  Islands  have 
got  their  names  from  their  shapes.  The  narrow  ship-chan- 
nel leading  up  through  the  harbor  passes  between,  and  can, 
if  necessary,  be  readily  defended  by  the  forts  upon,  Castle 
and  Governor's  Islands. 

THE   BOSTON   SUBURBS. 

At  the  inward  or  western  extremity  of  the  harbor  is  the 
Shawmut  peninsula  of  Boston,  having  waterways  all  around 
it.  Upon  the  one  side  is  South  Boston  and  upon  the  other 
Charlestown,  the  comparatively  narrow  intervening  water- 
courses of  Fort  Point  channel  and  Charles  River  being  in 
parts  almost  roofed  over  with  bridges  that  grudgingly  open 
their  draws  to  let  through  the  schooners  laden  with  lumber 
and  coal.  To  the  north-east,  upon  another  peninsula  which 
formerly  was  an  island,  is  East  Boston,  having  Chelsea  be- 
yond. Toward  the  north-east,  across  the  broadened  estuary 
of  Charles  River,  is  Cambridge,  and  the  branch  of  this 
estuary  that  comes  in  at  the  west  end  of  Boston,  and  is 
known  as  the  Back  Bay,  has  been  largely  encroached  upon 
to  create  more  land  for  the  crowded  and  spreading  city. 
The  outlying  suburbs  of  Roxbury  and  Dorchester  are  to 
the  southward,  and  to  the  westward  are  Brookliue,  Brighton, 
and  Somerville.  Upon  the  Shawmut  peninsula  the  original 
limits  of  Boston  covered  only  seven  hundred  and  eighty- 
three  acres,  but  by  filling  in  various  flats  and  reclamations 
from  the  Back  Bay  this  has  been  much  more  than  doubled. 
To  help  make  South  Boston,  the  city  absorbed  Dorchester 
Neck,  and  it  took  in  Noddle's  Island  to  make  East  Boston, 
so  that  by  filling  up  their  flats  and  marshes  it  thus  got 
eighteen  hundred  and  thirty-eight  acres  more  surface. 
Then  it  subsequently  absorbed  Roxbury,  Dorchester, 
Charlestown,  and  Brighton,  so  that  to-day  it  covers  nearly 
forty  square  miles  and  is  about  thirty  times  the  area  of 
the  original  Boston.  What  with  cutting  down  hills,  the 
improvements   made   everywhere,  and  the   great   changes 


BOSTON  COMMON.  191 

wrought  by  fires  that  have  obliterated  the  older  narrow 
and  crooked  streets,  it  is  now  said  that  Boston  has  become 
entirely  changed,  so  that  the  alignments  of  the  ancient  maps 
can  scarcely  be  recognized. 

Scarcely  a  vestige  thus  remains  of  the  Boston  of  early 
colonial  times.  Its  Shawmut  peninsula  was  then  the  "  Tri- 
mountain,"  which  has  been  shortened  into  "  Tremont," 
now  a  common  Boston  designation.  As  the  first  settlers 
saw  the  place  from  Charlestown,  whence  they  came  athirst 
to  seek  the  "  sweet  waters  "  of  the  Indians,  Shawmut  seemed 
to  chiefly  consist  of  three  high  hills,  which  were  respectively 
named  Copp's,  Beacon,  and  Fort  Hills.  The  highest  of 
these,  the  Beacon  Hill,  was  in  itself  a  sort  of  "  tri-moun- 
tain,"  having  three  well- developed  surmounting  little  peaks. 
These,  however,  were  afterward  cut  down,  although  the 
massive  elevation  of  Beacon  Hill,  whereon  the  colonists 
burnt  their  signal-fires,  still  remains  to  bear  upon  its  tops 
and  slopes  the  weight  of  the  most  exclusive  aristocracy 
of  Boston.  The  younger  generation,  of  later  wealth  and 
more  modern  aggrandizement,  however,  is  being  generally 
gathered  into  the  more  imposing  and  newer  residences 
recently  built  upon  the  filled-in  lands  reclaimed  from  the 
Back  Bay.  The  city's  sturdy  growth  requires  constant 
expansion. 

BOSTON   COMMON. 

Boston,  as  now  developed,  is  clustered  around  the  well- 
known  park  that  has  come  down  from  the  colonial  days  as 
"  Boston  Common,"  and  upon  its  northern  verge  this  park 
rises  toward  Beacon  Hill.  The  city,  no  matter  by  what 
route  approached,  has  the  appearance  of  a  broad  cone  with 
a  wide  base,  ascending  by  a  gradual  plane  to  the  bulb-like 
apex  of  the  gilded  State-House  dome.  The  surface  is  occa- 
sionally broken  by  a  tall  building  looming  above  the  mass, 
or  is  pierced  by  church-sj^ires  or  fanciful  towers  of  modern 
architecture  or  by  a  high  chimney  pouring  out  black  smoke 


192  AN  EASTERN  TOUR 

over  the  aggregation  of  houses.  Thus  it  becomes  a  sym- 
metrical scene  in  the  general  view,  though  made  up  of 
irregukir  details,  and  the  observer,  when  looking  at  this 
severely  regular  cone-shaped  city  rising  by  easy  and  steady 
advances  to  the  central  summit,  can  scarcely  believe  that 
in  its  various  parts  it  is  so  remarkably  uneven.  Toward 
this  same  central  summit  of  the  State-House  dome  the  Com- 
mon rises  from  the  south  and  west  by  a  graceful  plane,  in- 
terspersed with  hillocks,  whose  sides  peep  through  the  open- 
ings in  the  trees.  The  Common  also  has  broad,  open  spaces, 
used  for  outdoor  sports  and  military  displaj^s,  which  some- 
times gather  the  sight-seers  by  thousands.  The  Common  is 
rich  in  noble  trees,  and  it  covers  a  surface  of  about  fifty 
acres,  while  to  the  westward  there  is  an  additional  park  of 
half  its  size  known  as  the  Public  Garden,  and  separated 
by  a  wide  street  opened  to  accommodate  the  cross-town 
traffic.  We  are  told  that  this  noted  Boston  Common  was 
the  ancient  Puritan  pasture-ground,  and  it  comes  down  to 
the  present  generation  rich  in  traditions  of  bygone  times. 
Here  in  the  colonial  wars  the  hostile  Indians,  when  cap- 
tured, were  put  to  death,  and  their  grinning  heads  impaled 
on  stakes  for  a  public  warning.  Murderers  were  gibbeted 
here,  witches  burnt,  and  duels  fought.  The  impassioned 
George  Whitefield  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century  preached 
here  in  the  open  air  to  a  congregation  of  twenty  thousand. 
An  English  traveller  of  about  tw^o  centuries  ago  described 
the  place  as  "  a  small  but  pleasant  common,  where  the  gal- 
lants, a  little  before  sunset,  walk  with  their  marmalet- 
madams  till  the  bell  at  nine  o'clock  rings  them  home." 
Sometimes  it  has  been  a  fortified  camp,  and  always  a  pleas- 
ure-ground, while  during  the  great  Boston  fire  a  few  years 
ago  enormous  piles  of  saved  goods  filled  the  eastern  por- 
tions. The  eastern  boundary  of  the  Common  is  Tremont 
Street,  with  Boylston  Street  on  the  southern  side  and  Bea- 
con Street  on  the  northern.  Rows  of  stately  elms  are 
planted  upon  its  walks  along  these  streets  and  upon  the 


BOSTON  COMMON.  193 

pathways  leading  across  the  Common  and  making  conve- 
nient "  short  cuts "  for  pedestrians  in  various  directions. 
There  are  also  some  noble  works  of  art.  Flagstaff  Hill, 
the  most  prominent  eminence,  is  surmounted  by  the  Sol- 
diers' Monument,  rising  ninety  feet  high  to  a  colossal  statue 
of  America,  which  overlooks  the  city.  This  is  one  of  the 
most  imposing  memorials  of  the  Civil  War  among  the  many 
in  this  country.  The  Brewer  Fountain,  a  munificent  gift 
from  a  prominent  citizen  and  famous  for  its  magnificent 
bronzes,  pours  out  its  limpid  waters  near  the  eastern  bound- 
ary. There  is  a  colossal  equestrian  statue  of  Washington 
of  great  merit  adorning  the  Public  Garden.  These  attract- 
ive grounds  are  additionally  embellished  by  pleasant  little 
lakes,  one  of  them  being  the  noted  "  Frog  Pond,"  so  dear 
to  the  hearts  of  the  older  Boston  boys,  whose  whitening 
locks  are  telling  in  these  later  years  of  the  rapid  flight  of 
time.* 

*■  A  valued  correspondent  calls  the  author's  attention  to  the  deri- 
vation of  the  name  of  Boston  from  "St.  Botolph's  Town."  The 
original  Boston  in  Lincolnshire,  England,  grew  around  the  monas- 
tery of  the  Saxon  saint  Botolph,  and  hence,  according  to  the  historian 
Lombard,  "  the  name  of  Botolph's  Town,  commonly  and  corruptly 
called  Boston."  The  English  Bostonians  presented  a  Gothic  window 
(from  the  ruins  of  old  St.  Botolph's)  to  Trinity  Church  (Rev.  Phil- 
lips Brooks),  This  correspondent  refers  to  the  general  politeness 
of  the  crowds  in  Washington  Street,  Boston,  shown  by  the  drivers 
as  well  as  pedestrians.  "There  seems,"  he  writes,  "to  be  a  quiet 
and  polite  assertion  of  right  of  way,  and  at  the  same  time  a  courteous 
acknowledgment  of  the  rights  of  others.  Even  the  very  horses 
seem  to  be  imbued  with  this  spirit.  I  actually  saw  a  horse,  whose 
driver  was  inattentive,  suddenly  come  to  a  stop  before  collision,  be- 
cause another  horse  passing  from  Milk  to  Water  Street,  across 
Washington,  got  half  a  head  in  fii'st." 
13 


194  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

XXVII. 

A  RAMBLE  THROUGH  BOSTON. 

As  we  have  been  strolling  about  Boston  Common  we 
have  climbed  its  northern  edge  upon  Beacon  Hill  to  cross 
Beacon  Street  to  the  State-House.  This  famous  building 
stands  upon  ground  that  in  the  last  century  was  John  Han- 
cock's cow-pasture,  his  residence  that  was  for  many  years 
alongside  being  now  replaced  by  the  ornamental  "  swell 
fronts "  of  the  aristocratic  Somerset  Club.  This  rounded 
swell  front  is  a  distinctive  feature  of  Boston  residential 
architecture.  The  State-House  is  the  home  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Legislature,  and  is  coeval  with  the  present  century. 
The  portraits  and  busts  of  the  great  men  of  the  Common- 
wealth adorn  the  rotunda,  and  are  surrounded  by  the  bat- 
tle-flags carried  by  the  Massachusetts  regiments  during  the 
Civil  War.  From  the  lantern  surmounting  the  gilded  dome 
is  the  finest  view  in  Boston,  the  elevation  giving  a  magnif- 
icent outlook  over  the  city  and  its  suburbs,  with  the  mass 
of  estuaries  penetrating  the  land  on  all  sides,  the  harbor 
and  the  distant  islands,  and  over  the  neighboring  country 
for  many  miles.  The  legislative  halls  are  light  and  airy, 
but  the  Representatives'  Chamber,  which  accommodates  a 
numerous  body,  is  rather  crowded.  Upon  its  upper  wall, 
just  under  the  roof  and  in  full  view  of  the  Speaker  and 
the  members,  hangs  a  significant  emblem  of  the  "  Old  Bay 
State  " — the  noted  carved  codfish,  typifying  a  great  Massa- 
chusetts industry.  It  was  upon  St.  Patrick's  Day,  March 
17,  1785,  in  the  original  State-House  preceding  this  one, 
down  on  Washington  Street,  that  Representative  Rowe, 
who  is  also  said  to  have  been  the  suggester  of  throwing 
overboard  the  tea  in  Boston  harbor,  according  to  the  rec- 
ords, moved  "  That  leave  might  be  given  to  hang  up  the 
representation  of  a  codfish  in  the  room  where  the  House 
sit,  as  a  memorial  of  the  importance  of  the  cod-fishery  to 


BEBISTONE  CORNER.  195 

the  welfare  of  the  Commonwealth,  as  had  been  usual  for- 
merly." Theu,  said  motion  being  seconded,  the  question 
was  put,  and  leave  given  for  the  purpose  aforesaid.  This  em- 
blem was  brought  to  the  new  State-House  and  hung  on  the 
wall,  and  just  at  this  time  of  fishery  discussion  it  has  peculiar 
interest.  It  further  suggests,  according  to  a  local  newspa- 
per, that  while  our  statesmen  are  trying  to  settle  the  fishery- 
problems,  they  might  also  undertake  to  solve  one  of  long 
standing  that  has  perplexed  New  England:  "Does  the 
codfish  salt  the  ocean,  or  the  ocean  salt  the  codfish?" 

BRIMSTONE    CORNER. 

A  short  distance  from  the  State-House,  on  the  eastern 
edge  of  the  Common,  at  the  corner  of  Park  and  Tremont 
Streets,  is  the  famous  old  "  Brimstone  Corner,"  where  stands 
the  citadel  of  orthodoxy,  the  Puritan  meeting-house,  "  Park 
Street  Church."  Adjoining  this,  upon  land  evidently  once 
part  of  the  Common,  is  an  ancient  graveyard,  the  "  Old 
Granary  Burying-Ground,"  where  lie  the  remains  of  some 
of  the  most  famous  men  of  the  colony  of  Massachusetts 
Bay — John  Hancock,  Samuel  Adams,  Paul  Revere,  Peter 
Faneuil,  many  of  the  governors,  and  also  the  parents  of 
Benjamin  Franklin,  a  prominent  monument  marking  the 
graves  of  the  latter.  This  quiet  burial-place  adjoins  one 
of  the  busiest  spots  in  Boston,  and  the  rows  of  ancient, 
dark-looking,  and  half-efiaced  gravestones  are  an  antiqua- 
rian novelty.  There  are  around  it  many  noted  buildings, 
and  along  Tremont  Street  are  found  some  of  the  most  attrac- 
tive resorts,  including  the  Masonic  Temple,  various  publish- 
ing-houses, and  the  "  Piano  Row,"  wherein  is  concentrated 
music  of  all  kinds.  In  front  moves  a  steady  procession  of 
street-cars  leading  to  all  parts  of  the  city  and  suburbs.  Here 
are  the  Tremont  Temple  and  the  Horticultural  and  Music 
Halls,  all  of  them  popular  public  assembly-rooms.  The 
first  Episcopal  church  established  in  Boston,  the  "  King's 
Chapel,"  is  also  on  Tremont  Street,  although  this  is  not  the 


196  AN  EASTERN  TOUR 

original  building.  Adjacent  to  it  is  the  oldest  burial-place 
of  the  colony,  where  lie  the  remains  of  John  Winthrop  and 
his  sons  and  other  first  settlers.  Some  of  the  people  who 
formerly  ruled  over  this  graveyard  have,  strangely  enough, 
taken  all  the  ancient  gravestones  away  from  the  graves,  and 
without  reference  to  their  proper  positions  reset  them  as 
edge-stones  along  the  paths.  One  of  these  odd  old  stones 
of  a  greenish  hue  marked  the  grave  of  William  Paddy, 
who  died  in  1658,  and  it  bears  these  quaint  words  recorded 
in  an  unique  poetical  efiusion  : 

"  Hear  sleaps  that  blessed  one 
"Whoes  hef  God  help  us  all 
To  live  that  so  when  tiem  shall  be 
That  we  this  world  must  Hue, 
"VVe  ever  may  be  happy 
With  blessed  WilliamPaddy." 

This  old-time  region,  thus  recalling  the  early  days  of  the 
colony,  is  bordered  by  the  splendid  Boston  City  Hall,  which 
grandly  rises  beyond  the  graveyard.  This  fine  building  in 
the  Italian  Renaissance,  with  a  surmounting  louvre  dome 
of  imposing  proportions,  has  in  front  statues  of  Benjamin 
Franklin  and  Josiah  Quincy. 

THE   OLD   SOUTH   CHUECH. 

Strolling  down  into  the  heart  of  the  city,  the  intricacies 
of  its  remarkable  method  of  highway  construction  are  more 
and  more  realized.  Such  an  engineering  comedy  of  errors 
as  originally  planned  and  laid  out  the  Boston  streets  prob- 
ably nowhere  else  exists.  The  highways  and  intersections 
seem  to  be  ever  at  cross-purposes,  most  of  the  thoroughfiires 
in  the  older  portion  gyrating  so  strangely  over  the  ground 
that,  while  the  Bostonian  may  know  all  the  convenient 
short-cuts  that  ease  his  peregrinations,  the  visitor  usually 
gets  bewildered,  and  travels  through  them  around  to  the 
place  where  he  started.     Many  of  them  are  culs-de-sac  or 


THE  OLD  SOUTH  CHUSCH.  197 

blind  passages,  and  no  experience  in  other  cities  can  teach 
the  stranger  a  rule  whereby  to  find  a  destination  in  Boston. 
Imagine  the  perplexity  of  the  square-cornered  and  rectan- 
gular Philadelphian  when  set  down  in  this  labyrinth.  I^ev- 
ertheless,  Boston  is  not  so  large  but  that  a  moderate  amount 
of  this  uncertainty  is  pleasurable,  although  one  realizes  in 
wandering  about  the  enormous  population  that  concentrates 
from  the  suburbs  into  this  business  section  during  the  day 
from  the  crowded  condition  of  the  streets  and  the  steady 
rush  of  people  in  all  directions.  Locomotion  is  at  times 
uncomfortable  amid  the  busy,  jostling  throngs.  Going 
through  any  of  the  many  routes  leading  eastward,  one 
passes  from  Tremont  Street  into  Washington  Street,  these 
two  chief  highways  in  a  certain  sense  being  parallel.  Wash- 
inojton  Street  is  the  main  thorousrhfare  of  Boston,  havins: 
the  leading  theatres,  the  newspaper  offices,  and  many  of  the 
largest  stores,  and  it  finally  leads  over  into  the  "  South  End," 
being  a  wider  and  straighter  street  in  this  newer  portion. 

Just  a  little  way  oif  of  AVashington  Street,  where  now 
stands  the  office  of  the  Boston  Post,  formerly  stood  the 
little  old  dwelling  where  Benjamin  Franklin  was  born. 
Alongside  is  the  "  Old  South  Church,"  fronting  on  Wash- 
ington Street,  the  most  famous  church  of  Boston,  now,  how- 
ever, chiefly  an  historical  relic  and  museum  of  Revolution- 
ary antiquities,  the  congregation  having  recently  built  them- 
selves a  magnificent  new  temple  upon  Boylston  Street,  in  the 
fashionable  "  West  End."  This  ancient  church  is  a  curious 
old  building,  with  a  tall  spire  and  a  clock,  to  which  it  is  said 
that  more  eyes  are  upturned  than  to  any  other  time-piece  in 
New  England.  The  interior  of  the  building  is  square,  with 
double  galleries  on  the  ends,  and  its  original  condition  has 
been  entirely  restored.  This  church  was  the  colonial  shrine 
of  Boston,  wherein  were  held  the  spirited  meetings  of  the 
exciting  days  that  hatched  the  Revolution,  and  within  it 
were  arranged  the  preliminaries  leading  to  the  march  of 
the  party  of  disguised  men  who  went  down  to  the  wharf 


198  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

and  threw  the  tea  overboard.  Behind  the  pulpit  is  the 
famous  window  through  which  chmbed  Joseph  Warren  in 
1775  to  make  the  oration  on  the  anniversary  of  the  *'  Bos- 
ton Massacre  "  that  had  so  much  to  do  with  creating  the 
state  of  feeling  which  produced  the  final  defiance  of  the 
British  soldiery,  culminating  in  the  battle  of  Lexington. 
Plere  Whitefield  preached  and  Franklin  was  baptized,  and 
within  this  noted  church  were  delivered,  for  nearly  two 
centuries,  the  annual  "election  sermon"  before  the  gov- 
ernor and  legislature.  It  was  only  by  almost  superhuman 
exertions  that  the  venerable  building  was  saved  from  the 
ravages  of  the  great  fire  of  1872,  which  was  halted  at  its 
edge.  This  grand  historical  relic  has  deep  interest  for 
every  visitor,  standing  as  a  landmark  of  the  original  col- 
ony amid  the  surging  throngs  all  about  which  form  the 
busy  life  of  modern  Boston. 

FANEUIL   HALL. 

The  "  Old  State-House  "  is  also  on  Washington  Street,  an 
oblong  building  at  the  head  of  State  Street  which  was  the 
quarters  of  the  provincial  government.  The  "  Boston  IMas- 
sacre,"  where  the  troops  fired  upon  the  populace,  occurred 
in  the  street  on  its  eastern  side ;  after  which  Samuel  Adams, 
voicing  the  indignation  of  the  town,  made  within  this  build- 
ing, in  an  address  to  the  Executive  Council,  his  memorable 
and  successful  demand  that  the  British  soldiery  should  be 
removed  outside  the  city.  In  the  upper  portion  is  a  collec- 
tion made*  by  the  Bostonian  Society,  containing  much  of  in- 
terest in  connection  with  early  Boston  history.  The  British 
"  Lion  and  Unicorn  "  of  the  colonial  time  on  the  front  of 
the  building  has  been  replaced  by  our  "  bird  of  freedom,"  a 
brightly-gilded  eagle.*  Dock  Square  is  a  short  distance 
away,  and  near  here,  viewed  through  the  openings  made 

*  The  author  is  reminded  by  a  correspondent  that  the  British 
Lion  and  Unicorn  have  recently  been  restored  to  the  wings  of  the 
roof  over  the  south  front  of  the  "  Old  State-House." 


FANEUIL  HALL.  199 

by  an  intricate  system  of  crooked,  radiating  passageways, 
is  the  Boston  "Cradle  of  Liberty,"  Faneuil  Hall.  Old 
Peter  Faneuil  built  it  for  a  market  and  presented  it  to  the 
town,  and  afterward  it  was  unfortunately  burnt.  Within  it 
were  held  the  early  town-meetings,  many  being  of  sterling 
interest,  and  it  was  enlarged  in  1805  to  the  present  size. 
This  famous  hall  is  a  plain  rectangular  building  about 
'eighty  feet  square  inside,  the  lower  portion  being  a  market 
and  the  upper  part  an  assembly-room.  It  stands,  with  sur- 
mounting cupola,  in  an  open  square,  and  here  are  still  held 
the  public  meetings  of  Boston  when  anything  excites  the 
people,  and  it  is  crowded  by  standing  audiences,  there 
being  no  scats.  Across  the  end  of  the  hall  is  a  raised  plat- 
form for  the  orators,  behind  which,  on  the  wall,  is  Healy's 
large  painting  representing  the  Senate  listening  to  a  speech 
by  Daniel  Webster,  the  occasion  being  his  oration  in  the 
earliest  secession  days  of  1832,  when  South  Carolina  adopted 
the  policy  of  attempted  "  nullification  "  of  unwelcome  acts 
of  Congress  and  Webster  was  the  champion  of  the  Union. 
Upon  the  walls  hang  many  historical  portraits.  Faneuil 
Hall  is  never  rented  for  money,  but  is  open  for  all  when- 
ever certain  regulations  are  complied  with  by  a  sufficient 
number  of  pei-sons.  In  front  of  it,  extending  toward  the 
harbor,  is  the  Quincy  Market,  one  of  the  busiest  parts  of 
Boston. 

At  the  corner  of  Washington  and  School  Streets  is 
another  ancient  building,  the  "Old  Corner  Bookstore," 
which  has  come  down  for  generations  as  the  noted  book- 
shop of  this  literary  community.  Here  was  the  house  of 
Allen  &  Ticknor,  a  firm  that  passed  through  various 
changes  until  it  became  the  noted  house  of  Ticknor  & 
Fields,  the  ancestors  of  the  present  firm  of  Houghton, 
Mifflin  &  Co.,  who  now  have  more  spacious  quarters  else- 
where. The  gambrels  and  gables  of  the  old  house  recall 
an  architecture  that  is  almost  out  of  vogue.  Prolono-ed 
northward,  Washington  Street  runs  to  Haymarket  Square, 


200  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

and  Charlestown  Street  is  beyond  this,  passing  by  Copp's 
Hill.  Upon  this  hill,  which  has  been  considerably  reduced 
in  size,  is  the  oldest  church  in  Boston — Christ  Church  in 
Salem  Street — from  whose  steeple  on  the  eve  of  the  battle 
of  Lexington  were  displayed  the  lights  giving  warning  of 
the  movement  of  the  British  troops  starting  for  Concord. 
These  lights  notified  Paul  Revere  over  the  Charles  River, 
who  made  his  famous  midnight  ride  that  roused  the  country. 
The  silver  plate,  service-books,  and  Bible  belonging  to  this 
church  were  gifts  from  George  IL,  and  in  its  churchyard 
are  the  graves  of  the  three  reverend  doctors  Mather  who 
had  so  much  to  do  with  the  early  colony — Increase,  Cotton, 
and  Samuel. 

THE   BOSTON   FIRE. 

Reference  has  been  made  to  the  destructive  Boston  fire 
of  1872  that  was  stopped  with  so  much  effort  at  the  Old 
South  Church.  Closely  following  the  great  Chicago  fire, 
this  conflagration  continued  two  days,  ravaging  the  wealth- 
iest district  of  Boston,  and  burning  seven  hundred  and 
seventy-six  buildings  and  property  valued  at  nearly  eighty 
million  dollars,  the  flames  extending  over  fifty  acres  of  the 
business  quarter.  There  were  many  lives  lost  and  there 
was  much  suffering,  but  the  people  set  to  work  quickly  re- 
constructing their  city  in  far  better  style,  straightening  and 
widening  the  narrow,  crooked  streets,  and  putting  up  much 
finer  buildings.  This  once-desolated  region  east  of  Wash- 
ington Street  is  now  the  centre  of  enormous  business  opera- 
tions that  fully  occupy  many  noble  structures,  so  that  every 
trace  of  the  great  fire  was  long  ago  effaced.  Among  the 
finest  of  the  new  buildings  is  the  magnificent  post-office,  of 
Cape  Ann  granite,  that  cost  the  Government  over  seven 
million  five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  As  the  visitor  trav- 
erses the  section  devoted  to  trade  the  evidences  of  Boston's 
extensive  business  operations  are  more  and  more  impressive. 
Enormous  oflSce-buildings,  elevated  many  stories  toward  the 


THE  BOSTON  FIEE.  201 

skies ;  huge  insurance-offices ;  extensive  blocks  of  stores ; 
scores  of  banks ;  innumerable  mercantile  houses ;  and  the 
endless  processions  of  trucks  moving  upon  excellently  paved 
streets, — show  the  -wealth  and  trade  of  the  vigorous  town. 
Stretching;  down  from  the  old  State-House  to  the  harbor  is 
State  Street,  the  home  of  the  brokers  and  bankers.  The 
greatest  boot-  and  shoe-marts  in  the  world  are  in  Pearl  and 
Bedford  Streets,  selling  the  vast  product  of  the  Massachu- 
setts shoe-factories.  In  a  half  dozen  neighboring  streets  is 
the  dry-goods  district,  controlling  and  selling  the  output  of 
hundreds  of  New  England  cotton-  and  woollen-mills.  The 
merchants,  the  lawyers,  and  all  the  railway-offices  are  con- 
gregated in  the  region  betw^een  Tremont  and  Washington 
Streets  and  the  harbor. 

I  have  described  Beacon  Hill  and  referred  to  Copp's 
Hill.  To  give  better  business  and  commercial  facilities  the 
third  eminence  of  the  "  tri-mountain,"  Fort  Hill,  was  cut 
dow^n,  and  its  earth  and  rocks  were  used  to  fill  in  and  grade 
the  magnificent  marginal  street  fronting  the  harbor — Atlan- 
tic Avenue.  This  broad  street,  carrying  the  rails  of  the 
steam-railways,  thus  crossing  the  heads  of  the  long  docks 
and  giving  facilities  for  shipment,  is  of  the  greatest  advan- 
tage to  Boston  commerce.  In  front  of  it  the  piers  project, 
in  some  cases  as  much  as  eight  hundred  feet,  into  the  har- 
bor, having  rows  of  capacious  storehouses  in  their  centres, 
while  on  either  side  are  docks  of  large  size  filled  with  ship- 
ping. Here  is  conducted  an  extensive  traffic  with  all  parts 
of  the  world,  and  to  these  wharves  come  the  hardy  fisher- 
men with  their  yacht-like  fishing-smacks  and  flocks  of 
dories  to  unload  their  cargoes  of  cod  and  mackerel  and 
take  in  supplies  for  another  voyage.  Fleets  of  these  trim 
little  vessels  are  in  the  docks  with  piles  of  fish  in  the  stores, 
and  the  crews  preparing  for  new  voyages  to  the  fishing- 
banks.  This  fishing-  industry  is  of  great  importance  to 
New  England,  and  invaluable  to  the  country  as  an  edu- 
cator  of  the  sailor;   and   any  one   strolling   about  these 


202  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

wharves   can   fully   realize  the   local   significance   of  the 
carved  codfish  hanging  in  the  Massachusetts  State-House. 


XXVIII. 

BOSTON   CHAEACTERISTICS. 

The  development  in  many  ways  of  the  great  public 
spirit  of  the  people  is  a  prominent  characteristic  of  Bos- 
ton and  its  suburbs.  They  take  pride  in  their  city  and 
its  high  rank  in  the  country,  its  culture,  energy,  history, 
and  achievements.  The  wealthy  townsfolk,  both  while 
living  and  after  death,  have  devoted  their  fortunes  to  the 
benefit  of  the  community  by  gifts  of  fountains  and  statues, 
public  halls,  libraries,  and  educational  endowments,  many 
being  of  most  princely  character.  There  are  more  libraries, 
schools,  colleges,  art  and  scientific  collections,  museums,  con- 
servatories of  music,  technological  institutes,  and  all  the 
wide  range  of  educational  foundations,  in  and  near  Boston 
than  in  any  other  American  city.  Next  to  the  Library 
of  Congress,  the  Boston  Public  Library  is  the  largest  in 
America,  the  spacious  edifice  being  constantly  crowded 
with  book-borrowers  and  readers.  The  love  of  the  fine 
arts  was  long  ago  developed  among  the  Bostonians,  and 
the  frequent  open  spaces  at  the  street-intersections,  as  well 
as  the  public  grounds,  are  adorned  by  admirable  statues 
of  prominent  men  and  groups  representing  historical  events 
of  national  renown.  When  not  overweighted  with  the  pres- 
sure of  business  cares  the  people  of  Boston  seem  to  be  always 
studying  and  investigating,  the  women  as  well  as  the  men 
alike  pursuing  the  difiicult  paths  of  abstruse  knowledge 
with  indomitable  Yankee  perseverance,  so  that  armies  of 
them,  thoroughly  equipped,  scatter  over  the  country  every 
year  to  impart  their  learning  to  less-favored  communities 


THE  BACK  BAY  AND  THE  SUBUEBS.    203 

and  guide  the  newer  settlements  in  the  Far  AVest  in  their 
start  upon  the  road  to  Avealth  and  knowledge.  Of  this  is 
the  "Modern  Athens"  largely  composed,  and  Boston  is 
proud  indeed  of  such  a  prominent  characteristic. 

When  the  great  fire  of  1872  had  been  quenched  and  an 
estimate  was  being  formed  of  the  enormous  losses,  the  sig- 
nificant statement  w^as  made  that  "  the  best  treasure  of  Bos- 
ton cannot  be  burnt  up.  Her  grand  capital  of  culture  and 
character,  of  science  and  skill,  humanity  and  religion,  is 
beyond  the  reach  of  flame.  Sweep  away  every  store  and 
house,  every  school  and  church,  and  let  the  people  with 
their  history  and  habits  remain,  and  they  still  have  one  of 
the  richest  and  strongest  cities  on  earth." 

The  Boston  people  also  demonstrate  their  public  spirit 
by  liberal  gifts  for  the  erection  of  magnificent  buildings, 
and  these  grand  structures  are  scattered  with  prodigal- 
ity all  around  the  town.  These  are  the  homes  of  art, 
science,  and  education,  as  well  as  of  business.  There  are 
many  fine  churches,  especially  in  the  newer  districts  of 
the  West  End,  whither  have  removed  into  grand  temples 
of  modern  artistic  construction  quite  a  number  of  the 
wealthy  congregations  that  were  noted  in  the  olden  time. 
Boston  has  its  clubs  also,  of  which  there  are  endless  vari- 
eties, formed  for  every  conceivable  purpose,  and  not  the  least 
attribute  to  which  many  of  them  pay  particular  if  not  ex- 
clusive devotion  being  periodic  feasting.  In  fact,  one  robust 
Bostonian  told  me  that  the  "  Hub  "  seemed  in  danger  of 
being  "  clubbed  to  death."  Its  sturdy  devotion  to  social 
enjoyments  in  some  respects  is  quite  as  pronounced  as  the 
development  of  education  and  philanthropy. 

THE  BACK  BAY  AND  THE  SUBURBS. 

One  is  not  many  days  in  Boston  without  discovering  that 
the  city  long  since  became  too  cramped  for  the  rapidly-ex- 
panding population.  The  municipality  has  consequently 
grow^n  over  an  extensive  network  of  outlying  suburbs  across 


204  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

the  flats  and  ponds  and  waterways  environing  the  original 
town,  from  wliich  a  vast  mass  of  humanity  pours  in  every 
morning  to  transact  business.  There  are  eight  railways 
leading  out  from  the  city  over  causeways  aud  bridges,  and 
carrying  enormous  traffic  to  the  suburban  districts.  In 
beautifying  and  extending  the  city  itself,  however,  Boston 
could  not  have  done  a  better  thing  than  filling  in  what  is 
known  as  the  "  Back  Bay,"  an  extensive  tract,  originally 
marsh  and  lowlands,  adjacent  to  Charles  River  and  west  of 
the  Common.  During  more  than  thirty  years  this  improve- 
ment has  been  going  on,  making  a  spacious  new  district  in 
the  West  End,  now  containing  the  best  streets,  with  the 
finest  churches  and  hotels  and  elaborate  rows  of  elegant 
"swell-front"  dwellings  of  the  favorite  Boston  style  of 
rounded  construction,  which  are  the  homes  of  the  modern 
aristocracy.  Through  this  splendid  district  for  over  a  mile 
stretches  the  grand  Commonwealth  Avenue,  two  hundred 
and  forty  feet  wide,  its  centre  being  a  tree-embowered  park 
adorned  by  statues  and  having  on  either  side  a  magnificent 
boulevard.  The  residences  are  fronted  by  delicious  gar- 
dens, and  fashionable  equipages  roll  over  the  smooth  pave- 
ments. Fine  streets  at  intervals  cross  this  grand  avenue  at 
right  angles,  their  names  being  arranged  alphabetically  as 
one  proceeds  westward  by  the  adoption  of  these  well-known 
English  titles:  Arlington,  Berkeley,  Clarendon,  Dartmouth, 
Exeter,  Fairfield,  Gloucester,  Hereford,  etc.  Parallel  to  the 
avenue  are  also  laid  out  Boylston,  Marlborough,  Newbury, 
and  Beacon  Streets  through  this  favorite  residential  district 
of  more  modern  Boston. 

Beyond  this,  and  for  five  miles  through  the  growing  sub- 
urb of  Brookline,  there  is  being  constructed  a  noble  drive- 
way, combining  all  the  attractions  of  park,  garden,  boule- 
vard, and  footwalk,  with  also  a  special  bicycle-track  upon 
the  latest  approved  method.  Boston  being  the  first  city  to 
thus  properly  recognize  the  rights  of  this  useful  and  pop- 
ular vehicle.     Leading  out  to  the  southern  and  south-west- 


BUXKEE  HILL.  205 

em  suburbs,  it  finds  in  Eoxbury  and  the  hills  beyond,  and 
in  Brookline  and  Brighton,  a  region  of  wondrous  develop- 
ment and  beauty.  The  surface  is  undulating  and  superbly 
wooded,  dotted  with  crystal  lakes,  and  displaying  a  succes- 
sion for  miles  of  costly  country-houses  and  villas  that  are 
constructed  ujDon  every  artistic  style  and  varying  fashion. 
Their  hedges  and  groves  and  gardens  and  greensward  are 
at  this  season  in  full-leafed  midsummer  glory.  This  fav- 
orite region  spreads  beyond  the  limit  of  close  settlement, 
with  as  much  verdure  as  the  rocky  condition  of  the  land 
will  permit,  up  to  the  great  water  reservoir  of  Chestnut 
Hill,  which  holds  eight  hundred  million  of  gallons  and  is 
the  storehouse  for  the  city's  needs.  Here  the  villa-covered 
surface  is  constantly  enlarging  as  the  people  are  able  to 
devote  more  money  to  its  adornment.  The  attractive  drive- 
way in  this  district  is  around  the  great  reservoir,  a  broad 
road  being  laid  on  its  surrounding  embankment,  which  is 
at  times  raised  to  a  higher  level  where  the  hillside  per- 
mits, so  that  the  scenery  of  woods  and  water  and  over  the 
distant  landscape  is  very  fine.  Jamaica  Pond  and  Jamaica 
Plain  are  near  by,  and  beyond  the  latter  are  two  of  Bos- 
ton's attractive  cemeteries.  Mount  Hope  and  Forest  Hills. 

BUNKER   HILL. 

A  prominent  feature  of  Boston  is  the  location  of  one  of 
the  world's  great  historical  battles  within  the  city — Bunker 
Hill,  marked  by  a  noble  monument  rising  on  the  centre 
of  the  hilltop  north  of  Charles  River,  where  the  British 
stormed  the  Yankee  redoubt  in  June,  1775.  This  battle- 
field was  then  in  the  Charlestown  district,  out  in  the  open 
country,  beyond  Charles  River,  but  it  has  long  since  been 
covered  with  houses  as  the  city  spread,  excepting  upon  the 
small  open  space  reserved  for  a  little  park  around  the 
monument  on  the  summit  of  the  hill.  The  granite  shaft 
rises  two  hundred  and  twenty-one  feet  upon  the  highest 
part  of  the   eminence,  which   is   elevated   sixty-two   feet 


206  AN  EASTERN  TOUR 

above  the  level  of  Charles  River.  Facing  Boston,  in  front 
of  the  monument,  the  direction  from  which  the  attack  came, 
is  the  bronze  statue  of  Colonel  William  Prescott,  who  com- 
manded the  Continental  troops,  the  broad-brimmed  hat 
shading  his  earnest  face  as  with  deprecatory  yet  deter- 
mined gesture  he  uttered  the  memorable  words  of  Avarning 
that  resulted  in  such  terrible  punishment  of  the  British 
storming-column :  "  Don't  fire  until  I  tell  you ;  don't  fire 
until  you  see  the  whites  of  their  eyes."  The  traces  of  the 
hastily-constructed  breastworks,  thrown  up  during  the  pre- 
vious night,  can  be  seen  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  a  stone 
marks  where  Warren  fell ;  for  the  noted  Dr.  Joseph  Warren, 
who  made  the  impassioned  speech  in  the  Old  South  Church 
that  did  so  much  to  kindle  the  Revolutionary  feeling  in 
Boston,  was  among  the  slain  at  Bunker  Hill.  The  top  of 
the  tall  monument  gives  a  splendid  view  in  all  directions 
over  the  harbor  and  suburbs  of  Boston — mapping  out  the 
maze  of  water-courses  and  railroads,  with  the  many  towns 
and  villages,  the  fields  and  forests,  and  the  shipping  clus- 
tering at  the  wharves  or  moving  over  the  waters.  This 
grand  outlook  embraces  a  wide  expanse  of  country,  show- 
ing the  vast  growth  and  busy  industries  of  the  complex 
mass  of  humanity  clustering  upon  the  coasts  of  Massa- 
chusetts Bay.  There  is  only  one  apparently  idle  locality. 
Adjoining  the  harbor  and  surrounded  by  a  high  stone  wall 
is  an  enclosure  with  its  storehouses  and  docks  fronting  the 
water  and  covering  an  extensive  surface  behind,  yet  almost 
utterly  lifeless,  so  far  as  can  be  seen.  There  is  an  old  hulk 
moored  off  the  shore,  but  the  shops  and  docks  show  little 
sign.  This  is  the  Charlestown  Navy-yard,  covering  about 
a  hundred  acres  and  having  an  extensive  frontage  on  the 
river,  with  a  grand  dry-dock  and  fine  ropewalk.  It  needs 
a  reinvigorated  United  States  navy  to  give  it  occupation. 


HARVAED  UNIVERSITY.  207 


HARVARD   UNIVERSITY. 

A  street-car  journey  upon  the  long  causeways  crossing 
the  wide  expanse  of  Charles  River  where  it  spreads  out  to 
form  the  "  Back  Bay,"  and  passing  in  front  of  the  new  im- 
provements on  the  filled-in  lands  of  the  West  End  and 
beyond  the  adjacent  flats,  takes  the  visitor  to  tlie  academic 
suburb  of  Cambridge  and  the  great  Boston  university.  This 
populous  town,  so  far  as  it  is  known  to  fame,  is  mainly  the 
college,  but  at  its  outskirts  upon  the  banks  of  Charles  River 
is  Boston's  most  noted  burial-place,  the  romantic  Mount 
Auburn  Cemetery.  This  fine  enclosure  covers  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  acres  of  hill  and  vale,  with  a  grand 
development  of  tombs  and  landscape.  The  tower  upon  the 
summit  of  the  mount  gives  a  beautiful  outlook  over  Charles 
River  Valley,  the  Brighton  and  Brookline  villa  districts 
being  opposite,  w^ith  the  distant  view  closed  by  the  Blue 
Hills  of  Milton.  Harvaixi  University  is  in  the  centre  of 
Cambridge,  its  grounds  covering  about  twenty-two  acres, 
with  adjacent  fields  for  athletic  sports.  Many  buildings 
of  ancient  and  modern  construction  fill  the  college  yard,  as 
the  dormitories  and  lecture-  and  recitation-halls,  some  of 
them  being  large  and  attractive  structures.  Two  hundred 
and  fifty-three  years  ago  the  Massachusetts  General  Court, 
as  the  colonial  legislature  was  styled,  voted  four  hundred 
pounds  for  the  establishment  of  a  school  at  Cambridge. 
Two  years  afterward,  in  1638,  John  Harvard,  who  had 
been  a  pastor  in  Charlestown,  died  and  bequeathed  this 
school  his  library  and  about  eight  hundred  pounds  more. 
Then  the  Cambridge  school  was  made  a  college,  and  named 
Harvard  by  the  General  Court.  Cast  in  heroic  bronze,  the 
youthful  patron  now  sits  upon  a  caj)acious  chair  in  front 
of  the  Memorial  Hall  in  the  college  yard.  This  university 
far  antedates  its  rival,  Yale,  at  New  Haven,  for  its  first 
class  was  graduated  in  1642.  In  fact.  Harvard  was  found- 
ed only  ninety  years  later  than  the  greatest  college  of  the 


208  AN  EASTERN  TOUR 

old  English  Cambridge — Emmanuel.  John  Harvard  and 
Dunster,  who  was  the  first  president  of  Harvard,  with  sev- 
eral other  prominent  Boston  colonists,  had  been  scholars 
of  Emmanuel,  and  thus  from  the  older  Puritan  foundation 
came  the  younger,  and  they  brought  with  it  the  name  of 
the  "  University  City."  The  first  New  England  printing- 
press  was  set  up  here,  and  in  the  University  and  Riverside 
presses  of  to-day  it  has  been  succeeded  by  two  extensive 
bookmaking  establishments.  Holmes,  Lowell,  and  Long- 
fellow have  been  members  of  the  faculty,  and  it  has  sent 
out  thousands  of  fiimous  graduates.  It  is  liberally  endowed, 
and  has  thus  been  enabled  to  erect  its  many  magnificent 
buildings,  which  are  usually  named  in  memory  of  the  bene- 
factors. The  Harvard  government  formerly  was  a  strictly 
religious  organization,  most  of  the  graduates  becoming 
clergymen ;  but  recently  it  has  been  secularized,  so  that 
no  denominational  religion  is  insisted  upon,  and  but  a  few 
comparatively  now  enter  the  Church.  There  are  schools 
of  law,  medicine,  divinity,  and  the  arts,  all  the  learned  pro- 
fessions being  provided  for,  but  everything  is  elective. 

In  the  various  departments  at  Harvard  during  the  ses- 
sion there  are  over  fourteen  hundred  students  and  about 
fifty-five  professors,  with  many  instructors.  Much  atten- 
tion is  given  outdoor  sports  and  athletic  training,  the  col- 
lege having  the  finest  gymnasium  in  this  country.  The 
most  elaborate  building  of  the  university,  and  the  best  in 
Cambridge,  is  the  Memorial  Hall,  which  cost  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  It  is  a  splendid  structure  of  brick  and 
Nova  Scotia  stone,  three  hundred  and  ten  feet  long,  having 
a  cloister  at  one  end  and  a  massive  tower  rising  at  the 
other.  It  was  recently  built  in  memory  of  the  Harvard 
graduates  who  fell  during  the  war,  and  in  the  vestibule 
which  crosses  the  building  like  a  transej^t,  having  a  marble 
floor  and  a  rich  vaulted  ceiling  of  ash,  and  grand  windows 
at  either  end  through  which  pours  a  mellowed  light,  there 
are  tablets  set  in  the  arcaded  sides  bearing  the  names  of 


THE  MASSACHUSETTS  NOETH  SHOEE.         209 

one  hundred  and  thirty-six  dead  of  Harvard.  Upon  one 
side  of  this  impressive  vestibule  is  the  Sanders  Theatre,  a 
half  amphitheatre,  used  for  commencements  and  other  pub- 
lic services,  and  seating  thirteen  hundred  persons.  The 
statue  of  the  venerable  Josiah  Quincy,  once  president  of 
Harvard  and  mayor  of  Boston,  adorns  this  theatre.  Upon 
the  other  side  of  the  vestibule  is  the  great  hall  of  the  col- 
lege, one  hundred  and  sixty-four  feet  long  and  eighty  feet 
high,  with  a  splendid  roof  of  open  timber-work  and  mag- 
nificent windows.  This  is  the  refectory  of  the  students, 
and  here  centre  the  most  hallowed  memories  of  the  uni- 
versity, portraits  and  busts  of  the  distinguished  graduates 
and  benefactors  adorning  it,  and  the  great  western  window 
in  the  late  afternoon,  as  we  viewed  it,  throwing  a  flood  of 
rich  sunlight  over  the  charming  scene.  Tables  cover  the 
floor  when  the  dinner-hour  approaches,  and  here  the 
students  are  fed  at  a  cost  of  about  four  dollars  per  week. 
Such  is  the  noted  Boston  university,  patterned  after  the 
original  Cambridge,  and  thus  adding  much  to  the  English 
style  of  most  things  seen  about  the  great  IMassachusetts 
capital.  It  was  here,  when  Sir  Charles  Dilke  visited  them 
a  few  years  ago,  that  the  people  told  him  that  they  spoke 
"  the  English  of  Elizabeth,"  and  at  the  same  time  con- 
gratulated him  upon  using  what  they  said  was  "  good  Eng- 
lish for  an  Englishman." 


XXIX. 

THE  MASSACHUSETTS   NOETH  SHOEE. 

The  northern  coast  of  Massachusetts  Bay  is  a  rock- 
ribbed  region  of  interspersed  crags  and  sand-beaches, 
stretching  far  away  from  Boston  toward  the  north-east 
to  terminate  in  the  massive  granite  buttress  of  Cape  Ann. 

14 


210  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR. 

It  is  largely  a  region  of  modern  sea-coast  villas  and  of  old- 
time  fishermen,  of  shoemakers  and  sailors,  and  in  many- 
portions  is  passing  through  the  interesting  stage  of  transi- 
tion development  caused  by  the  recent  inroads  of  fashion- 
able life.  Tlie  attractive  formation  of  Boston  harbor  I 
have  heretofore  mentioned,  with  its  numerous  islands  and 
the  curiously-shaped  peninsulas  jutting  from  the  mainland. 
These  seem  to  be  scattered  about  with  an  apparent  irreg- 
ularity that  is  very  picturesque,  yet  more  closely  examined 
they  manage  to  arrange  themselves  in  three  concentric 
rings.  Of  these,  the  inner  circle  appears  to  be  made  by 
Castle  and  Governor's  Islands  in  alignment  with  the  pen- 
insulas of  East  Boston  and  South  Boston.  Another  and 
larger  circle  is  a  short  distance  farther  eastward.  The 
Squantum  peninsula,  of  which  I  have  already  written, 
juts  out  from  the  southern  shore  between  Dorchester  and 
Quincy  Bays,  and  without  much  difficulty  it  might  be  pro- 
longed through  Moon  and  Long  and  Deer  Islands  to  an- 
other of  these  curiously-formed  peninsulas  thrust  out  from 
the  north  shore  and  making  the  bluffs  of  Winthrop  and  a 
narrow  projecting  strip  that  terminates  in  the  rounded 
headland  known  as  Point  Shirley.  This  is  an  attractive 
seaside  resort,  and  was  named  in  memory  of  Governor 
Shirley  of  the  Massachusetts  colonial  province,  who  once 
commanded  all  the  British  forces  in  North  America.  Deer 
Island  is  almost  connected  with  this  point,  and  we  are  told 
was  so  called  "  because  of  the  deare,  who  often  swim  thither 
from  the  maine  when  they  are  chased  by  the  wolves."  It 
has  been  many  years,  however,  since  deer  or  wolves  (of  this 
kind)  have  been  seen  around  Boston. 

There  is  yet  another  and  outer  circle,  which  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  eastern  boundary  of  Boston  harbor.  On  the 
north  shore,  in  front  of  Lynn,  there  stretches  out  for  several 
miles  the  curious  formation  of  Nahant,  and  in  line  with  it 
southward  are  the  reefs  known  as  the  "  Graves  "  and  the 
group  of  islands  whereon  is  Boston  Light.     To  complete 


THE  SHOEMAKEES  OF  LYNN.  211 

the  segment  of  this  outer  bounding  circle,  comes  out  north- 
ward from  the  south  shore  Nantasket  Beach,  acutely  bend- 
ing from  the  north  around  to  the  south-west  to  make  the 
hook  whereon  is  Hull,  and  leaving  at  the  extremity  of  the 
peninsula  Paddock's  Island.  All  these  odd  formations  help 
in  making  the  Boston  surroundings  very  picturesque.  The 
modest  village  of  Hull  nestles  under  a  hill  near  the  ex- 
tremity of  this  outer  Nantasket  peninsula — a  construction 
that  seems  as  if  put  just  where  it  is  by  human  hands  to 
make  a  breakwater  protecting  Boston  harbor  from  the 
Atlantic  storms.  The  northern  projection  of  this  curious 
formation  is  Point  Allerton,  and  the  narrow  Nantasket 
Beach  connecting  it  with  the  mainland  of  the  south  shore 
is  a  ribbon  of  hard  white  sand  four  miles  long,  upon  which 
the  surf  perpetually  beats.  This  region  is  a  popular  sum- 
mer resort,  Hingham  village  being  on  the  main  land,  while 
stretching  farther  east  along  the  coast  is  the  noted  Jerusalem 
Road,  lined  by  the  splendid  seaside  villas  of  wealthy  Bos- 
tonians  that  have  their  lawns  spreading  out  to  the  edge  of 
the  sea.  Hingham  is  a  somewhat  antiquated  locality  that  is 
being  modernized  into  a  summer  resort.  Its  pride  is  in  the 
possession  of  the  "  oldest  church  in  Yankeedom,"  a  square 
house  with  a  steep  roof  sloping  up  on  all  the  four  sides  to  a 
platform  at  the  top,  surrounded  by  a  balustrade  and  sur- 
mounted by  a  little  pointed  belfry. 

THE   SHOEMAKERS   OF   LYNN. 

But  we  must  start  from  Boston  for  the  north  shore. 
Crossing  over  a  ferry  to  East  Boston  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, we  are  met  by  the  crowds  pouring  into  the  city  to 
their  daily  labor.  As  the  boat  moves  along,  the  harbor 
passes  in  review,  with  its  grain-elevators  and  the  exten- 
sive wharves  of  the  European  steamship  lines,  its  tugs, 
steamers,  and  ferry-boats.  The  Bunker  Hill  Monument 
is  elevated  high  behind  the  huge  ship-houses  of  the  Charles- 
town   Navy-yard,  seen  off  to  the  north-west   up   Charles 


212  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

River.  To  the  eastward  is  Governor's  Island,  with  Fort 
Winthrop  upon  it,  and  beyond  are  the  network  of  penin- 
sulas and  the  craggy  islands  enclosing  the  harbor,  while 
farther  off  are  the  long,  undulating  rocky  coasts  and  sand- 
strips  making  the  southern  shore,  with  the  projecting  hook 
of  Nantasket  that  does  so  much  to  protect  the  place  from 
ocean  storms.  We  land  in  East  Boston,  and  a  swift  rail- 
way-train is  soon  spinning  along  through  the  town  and  out 
upon  the  edge  of  the  water,  across  flats  and  marshes  and 
among  the  frame  houses  built  upon  the  hill-slopes  sharply 
rising  inland,  while  on  the  seaside  are  successive  sand- 
beaches.  The  vegetation  is  sparse,  but  shore-houses  are 
numerous,  and  "  chowder "  and  bathing  establishments 
plenty,  having  cottages  clustering  around  them.  The  re- 
markable formation  of  the  Winthrop  peninsula  is  thrust 
out  broadly  seaward,  having  its  long,  thin,  and  bulbous 
southern  projection  of  Point  Shirley  and  the  outlying  Deer 
Island  with  summer  hotels  upon  it.  We  cross  its  neck  and 
skirt  along  Revere  Beach,  and  then  there  appears  in  front 
Lynn  Bay,  and  across  it,  to  the  eastward,  the  narrow  sand- 
strip  that  leads  out  to  Nahant,  one  of  the  strangest  forma- 
tions on  this  curious  coast. 

Upon  the  mainland  ahead  of  us  is  the  city  of  Lynn, 
stretching  far  along  the  shore  vrith  its  mass  of  white  and 
yellow  wooden  houses  and  broadly  spreading  up  the 
background  of  hills.  There  are  forty  thousand  people  in 
Lynn,  who  chiefly  devote  their  time  to  the  manuflicture  of 
women's  and  children's  shoes,  a  Welshman  named  Dagyr 
having  started  this  important  industry  here  in  the  middle 
of  the  last  century.  The  whole  place  is  redolent  of  the 
pungent  odors  of  morocco  and  leather;  the  main  streets 
are  lined  with  the  offices  of  shoe-merchants ;  there  are  two 
hundred  or  more  shoe-factories,  great  and  small,  scattered 
through  the  place ;  the  myriads  of  frame  houses  covering 
the  plain  near  the  sea  and  the  adjacent  hills  are  mainly  the 
homes  of  thousands  of  shoemakers,  men  and  women,  who 


VILLA-CROWNED  NAHANT.  213 

work  in  the  "  teams  "  in  the  factories ;  and  here  are  made 
more  women's  shoes  than  in  any  other  place  in  the  world, 
there  sometimes  being  turned  out  in  a  single  year  fifteen 
million  of  pairs  that  are  sent  everywhere.  As  may  nat- 
urally be  expected,  here  flourishes  in  all  its  glory  the  pow- 
erful society  of  the  "  Knights  of  St.  Crispin  "  which  rules 
the  shoe  trade  and  largely  controls  the  politics  of  the  town, 
and  its  members  have  made  Lynn  a  special  citadel  of  Amer- 
ican labor  by  successfully  discriminating  against  most  of  the 
foreigners  who  are  so  numerous  in  other  Kew  England  man- 
ufacturing centres.  Much  of  the  work  on  the  shoes  is  done 
by  machinery.  It  was  from  Lynn-Regis  in  England  that 
the  first  flock  of  colonists  were  brought  by  their  pastor  in 
1629  to  Lynn,  and  hence  its  name.  It  is  the  chief  town 
of  Essex  count}^  for  we  have  crossed  over  the  border  from 
Suffolk,  the  county  containing  Boston.  The  attractive  city 
hall  of  Lynn  is  seen  from  afar,  being  prominently  built  of 
brick  and  brownstone  and  fronting  on  the  narrow  common. 
The  fish-sellers,  who  represent  another  Massachusetts  indus- 
try as  important  as  shoemaking,  go  about  its  streets  an- 
nouncing their  vocation  by  lusty  blasts  on  resonant  horns, 
and  there  are  many  fishing-boats  drawn  up  on  the  shores 
of  the  bay.  A  magnificent  display  of  costly  villas  is  made 
out  in  front  of  the  eastern  portion  of  Lynn,  having  the 
ocean  in  full  view  and  Nahant  seen  across  the  bay.  Here 
live  the  shoe-and-leather  princes  of  the  town  and  also  many 
business-men  from  Boston.  Having  excellent  roads  em- 
bowered with  trees,  and  the  surf  beating  in  upon  the  slop- 
ing shore  in  front,  this  is  a  lovely  spot  for  a  home ;  and 
when  the  busy  people  tire  of  their  shoe-factories  they  need 
not  go  far  to  get  the  recreation  given  by  a  pleasant  view 
across  the  deep  blue  sea. 

VILLA-CROWNED   NAHANT. 

The  long  and  narrow  sand-strip  that  goes  out  to  Nahant 
stretches  seaward  in  front  of  Lynn.    On  either  side  the  surf 


214  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

briskly  beats,  and  would  soon  wash  the  strip  away  were  not 
the  beach  of  hard  sand  and  gravel  sustained  by  a  stiff  back- 
bone of  rocks  beneath.  This  ribbon  of  sand  is  barely  a  hun- 
dred yards  wide,  having  Nahant  Bay  on  its  ocean  side  to  the 
eastward  and  Lynn  Bay  to  the  westward.  On  the  outer  edge 
of  the  bay  to  the  eastward  stands  up  the  isolated,  oval- 
shaped  Egg  Eock,  rising  nearly  one  hundred  feet  high, 
with  the  guiding  beacon-light  that  surmounts  the  summit 
seen  far  away  over  the  water.  In  front,  as  we  go  out  along 
the  sand-strip,  are  the  rocks  and  hills  forming  Nahant, 
seeming  almost  bare  and  having  a  few  trees  and  many 
villas  upon  them.  Nahant,  which  means  the  "  Lovers' 
Walk,"  is  a  curious  formation.  The  narrow  sand-beach 
tying  it  to  the  shore,  and  thus  thrust  out  directly  into  the 
ocean,  is  nearly  four  miles  in  length.  At  the  outer  extrem- 
itv  a  mass  of  rocks  and  soil  rises  to  a  considerable  height 
above  the  sea,  being  of  very  irregular  shape,  nearly  two 
miles  long  and  half  a  mile  broad,  and  covering  about  four 
hundred  and  fifty  acres.  Its  shores  are  mostly  lined  with 
rocks,  many  being  of  unique  character,  making  caves  and 
spouting  fissures  as  the  waves  dash  in.  A  short  distance 
within  the  outer  peninsula  a  smaller  mass  of  about  forty 
acres  crosses  the  connecting  sand-strip  and  is  called  Little 
Nahant.  The  Bostonians  have  made  Nahant,  which  is 
within  easy  access,  one  of  their  favorite  summer  resorts, 
occupying  the  whole  of  the  place  with  villas,  whose  red 
roofs  rise  upon  all  the  hilltops,  having  the  neat  tower  of  a 
pretty  little  white  church  (like  all  New  England  hamlets) 
on  the  highest  ground,  near  the  centre  of  the  strangely- 
shaped  locality,  apparently  for  the  chief  landmark.  The 
cottages  are  comfortable,  and  many  are  roomy  and  some 
quite  ornamental,  though  the  elaborate  and  even  effusive 
use  of  wealth  in  decoration  and  building  that  is  so  exten- 
sively displayed  by  the  millionaires  of  Newport  is  not  seen 
at  this  popular  Boston  resort,  where  the  people  may  have 
similar  tastes,  but  are  evidently  more  happy  in  possessing 


VILLA-CKOWNED  NAHANT.  215 

less  overgrown  fortunes.  The  highways  that  are  laid  out 
upon  this  curious  peninsula  are  excellent,  the  arching 
elms  in  most  charming  manner  rising  gracefully  over 
them.  Many  pretty  landscapes  are  displayed  from  the 
higher  grounds,  and  there  are  views  across  the  sea  in 
almost  every  direction.  Several  old-time  houses  are  still 
found  among  the  lawn-environed  villas,  relics  of  the  earlier 
days,  before  modern  fashion  had  seized  upon  JSTahant.  All 
around  the  ocean  side  are  huge  buttresses  of  rock,  where 
the  waves  long  since  washed  out  all  the  sand  and  soil,  al- 
though there  have  been  left  many  pretty  coves  among  the 
rugged  projections  of  the  cliffs.  The  dark-blue  water  spar- 
kles under  the  brisk  wind,  which  raises  profuse  spray  and 
"  white-caps."  Seen  across  the  sea,  far  away  to  the  south- 
west and  hazy  at  the  horizon,  is  the  distant  city  of  Boston, 
having  the  prominent  gilded  State-House  dome  rising  at 
the  top  of  the  broad,  flat  cone  the  city  makes.  As  we  go 
about  Nahant,  watching  the  waves  beating  upon  the  rocks 
and  dashing  into  the  little  intervening  coves,  and  winding 
w^ith  the  pleasant  road  among  the  villas,  there  constantly 
stands  up  the  little  white-towered  church  as  the  central 
landmark.  Returning  to  the  mainland  over  the  long,  nar- 
row isthmus,  the  broadly-extended  Massachusetts  shore  in. 
front  is  seen  to  be  fringed  with  villages,  their  white  wooden 
houses  dotted  along  the  edge  of  the  water  and  spreading 
almost  the  whole  way  from  Boston,  past  Winthrop,  being 
all  in  full  view,  and  finally  developing  into  the  larger  town 
of  Lynn  immediately  before  us,  with  its  towers  and  spires 
and  the  conspicuous  city  hall,  having  a  long  background 
of  hills.  Then  the  fringe  of  villages  spreads  off"  to  the  east- 
ward, into  Swampscott  and  Marblehead,  while  far  beyond 
there  loom  up  the  granite  hills  among  w^iich  the  famous 
fishing-port  of  Gloucester  nestles,  the  view  finally  ending 
in  the  distant  rocky  headland  of  Cape  Ann. 


216  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR 

XXX. 

THE  GKANITE  BUTTEESS  OF  CAPE  ANK 

From  Lynn  our  eastward  journey  is  renewed  along  the 
picturesque  northern  coast  through  the  frequent  fishing- 
settlements  that  are  undergoing  a  modern  evolution  into 
seaside  summer  resorts.  Cottages  border  the  little  bays, 
where  the  fishing-boats  are  drawn  up  on  the  sand-beaches, 
and  villas  are  hung  upon  the  hillsides  rising  high  at  the 
back.  Around  the  many  swamps  and  marshes  here 
abounding  crags  protrude,  for  we  have  entered  another 
Boston  summer  suburb — Swampscott — as  fashionable  as 
Nahant  and  as  populous.  In  all  directions  the  rocks  raise 
their  jagged  and  battered,  furrowed  sides,  and  cottages  are 
set  on  top  or  nestle  among  them.  Some  of  these  summer- 
houses  are  of  large  size  and  built  in  very  strange  styles, 
for  their  designers  like  nothing  better  than  to  get  up  odd 
kinds  of  architecture.  Some  of  the  more  startling  houses 
are  perched  high  on  the  rocks,  wdth  stairways  leading  up 
to  them.  There  are  huge  hotels  out  near  the  water-side, 
and  Swampscott  merges  into  Clifton,  with  the  ocean  wash- 
ing in  front ;  and  as  we  move  farther  along  more  and  more 
rocks  appear,  and  the  whole  surface  seems  to  have  been 
formerly  covered  by  the  boulders  that  have  been  gathered 
to  construct  the  stone  fences,  and  it  is  still  covered  with 
myriads  of  smaller  rounded  and  water- worn  stones.  '  As 
we  go  among  these  rocks,  with  a  field  or  two  disclosing  a 
doleful  attempt  at  farming,  the  distant  Marblehead  steeples 
appear  in  front  rising  from  that  ancient  and  most  curious 
town. 

QUAINT   OLD   MARBLEHEAD. 

An  uneven  backbone  of  granite,  covering  about  six 
square  miles,  is  thrust  out  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean  in  the 
direction  of  Cape  Ann,  and  is  hedged  about  with  rocky 


QUAINT  OLD  MAEBLEHEAD.  217 

islets.  On  the  one  side  this  granite  peninsula  forms  the 
harbor  of  Salem,  while  on  the  other  side  a  miniature  haven 
is  made  by  a  craggy  appendage  to  the  south-eastward  that 
is  attached  to  the  main  peninsula  by  a  ligature  of  sand  and 
shingle.  The  quaint  old  town  of  Marblehead  occupies  the 
greater  part  of  the  surface,  while  the  appendage,  now  the 
yachtsmen's  headquarters,  is  known  as  Marblehead  Neck. 
Formerly  this  place  was  a  great  resort  of  sailors  and  fisher- 
men. The  crooked,  narrow  streets  in  the  older  portion  run 
in  all  directions  over  the  rocks,  lined  by  frame  houses,  their 
uneven  sides  generally  being  without  footwalks,  and  the 
buildings  are  crowded  together  in  an  inconvenient  manner. 
This  once  pre-eminently  nautical  town  was  formerly  the 
second  port  in  Massachusetts,  but  its  marine  interests  have 
almost  passed  away,  and  it  has  since,  like  so  many  other 
Massachusetts  communities,  gone  largely  into  shoemaking, 
the  big  shoe-factories  being  scattered  through  it.  Among 
the  many  wooden  buildings  rocks  appear  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  have  certainly  gained  the  mastery.  When  the 
preacher,  George  Whitefield,  visited  Marblehead,  he  gazed 
in  astonishment  upon  the  superabundant  rocks,  and  asked 
in  surprise,  "  Pray,  where  do  they  bury  their  dead  ?"  The 
English  Channel  Islands  furnished  many  of  the  original 
settlers,  and  their  peculiarities  of  dialect  still  prevail 
among  their  descendants.  The  old-time  houses,  coming 
down  from  the  colonial  days,  and  the  nautical  flavor  of 
almost  everything,  even  though  shoemaking  is  now  per- 
manent among  this  seafaring  people,  recall  the  time  in  the 
last  century  when  the  seaport  of  Marblehead  was  almost 
a  rival  of  Boston.  The  superannuated  little  Fort  Sewall, 
that  once  protected  the  port,  is  out  on  the  headland,  and 
its  position  commands  the  harbors  upon  either  side.  Built 
upon  the  projecting  crag,  with  the  water  washing  it  upon 
both  sides,  the  surface  has  been  sodded  over,  and,  although 
the  walls  are  decaying,  the  precious  old  fort  is  preserved  as 
a  memento  of  the  past.     From  it  there  is  a  charming  out- 


218  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

look  at  the  rocks  and  promontories,  the  little  bays  between, 
and  far  out  over  the  sea.  There  is  Lowell  Island,  with  its 
summer  hotel ;  and  the  more  distant  view  is  along  the 
extended  north  shore,  with  its  modern  summer  resorts 
expanding  and  overshadowing  the  older  fishing-towns  at 
Beverly,  Manchester -by -the -Sea,  and,  finally,  the  New 
England  fishermen's  great  port  of  Gloucester  and  the  pon- 
derous rocks  of  Cape  Ann.  Though  it  may  have  ceased  to 
be  a  defensive  work,  this  ancient  fort  is  now  a  picturesque 
ruin,  and  a  contribution-box  hangs  on  its  gate  for  aid  in  its 
restoration.  There  are  red-roofed  villas,  some  of  unique 
and  attractive  construction,  perched  on  the  rocks  all  about 
this  quaint  yet  charming  town  that  has  had  so  much  to  do 
in  educating  the  American  sailor. 

THE   ANCIENT   PORT   OF   SALEM. 

There  stretches  westward  of  the  Marblehead  peninsula 
into  the  mainland  another  noted  haven  of  the  olden  time — 
Salem  harbor,  which  divides  into  two  arms,  known  as 
North  and  South  Rivers,  having  between  them  the  town, 
mainly  built  upon  a  peninsula  about  two  miles  long.  Pass- 
ing around  the  rocky  edge  of  an  intervening  bay,  we  enter 
the  ancient  city  of  the  witches  by  going  through  one  of 
those  typical  New  England  streets  of  which  so  many  have 
been  seen  upon  this  tour,  with  its  long  rows  of  stately  over- 
arching elms  making  a  grand  aisle  of  interlaced  branches 
far  above.  Bordering  this  attractive  street  are  pleasant 
homes  standing  in  spacious  grounds,  while  on  the  water- 
side their  smooth  green  lawns  stretch  down  to  the  harbor's 
edge.  This  w^as  the  Indian  domain  of  "Naumkeag,"  a 
name  that  has  been  preserved  in  many  titles  here,  and  is 
said  to  mean  the  "  Eel  Land."  This  was  the  mother-colony 
on  Massachusetts  Bay,  the  first  house  having  been  built  in 
1626.  Old  John  Endicott  got  a  grant  from  the  Plymouth 
settlers  for  the  colony,  and  came  out  and  founded  the  town 
two  years  afterward,  naming  it  "Salem,  from  the  peace 


THE  ANCIENT  PORT  OF  SALEM.  219 

which  they  had  and  hoped  in  it."  Despite  this  original 
peacefubiess,  however,  the  pious  Salem  colonists  soon  devel- 
oped warlike  tendencies.  The  settlement  had  not  long 
•existed  when  they  scourged  and  cut  off  the  ears  and  ban- 
ished Phili])  Ratcliffe  for  "blasphemy  against  the  First 
Church."  In  the  infancy  of  the  colony  a  trade  report 
showed  annual  imports  of  one  hundred  and  ten  thousand 
dollars  in  arms  and  cannon  and  ninety  thousand  dollars  in 
furniture,  building  materials,  and  everything  else.  The 
"  First  Church,"  formed  in  1629,  is  said  to  have  been  the 
earliest  church  organization  in  the  United  States,  and  it 
still  exists  and  flourishes.  In  that  year  the  early  history 
records  that  there  were  ten  houses  in  the  town  besides  the 
governor's  house,  "  Avhich  was  garnished  with  great  ord- 
nance ;"  adding,  "  thus  we  doubt  not  that  God  will  be  with 
us,  and  if  God  be  with  us,  who  can  be  against  us  ?"  It  was 
from  Salem  in  1630  that  John  Winthrop  migrated  to  found 
Boston. 

In  former  times  this  remarkable  old  town  was  the  lead- 
ing N^ew  England  port  for  foreign  trade,  but  its  glory  has 
departed,  this  trade  now  being  attracted  by  the  superior 
inducements  of  the  more  energetic  Boston  merchants. 
Salem  in  1785  sent  out  the  first  American  vessel  that 
doubled  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  during  a  half  cen- 
tury afterward  it  held  almost  a  monopoly  of  the  China 
and  East  Indies  trade  with  the  United  States,  having  at 
one  time  fifty-four  large  ships  thus  engaged.  Salem  ships 
also  went  to  the  southern  seas,  to  Japan  and  Africa,  so  that 
seventy  or  eighty  years  ago  it  was  in  the  first  rank  of  Amer- 
ican ports,  its  harbor  being  commodious,  with  deep  water, 
and  convenient.  The  town  is  yet  wealthy,  but  it  stands 
almost  still  while  other  towns  around  it  grow.  Passing  a 
green  old  age  in  quiet  restfulness,  its  venerable  merchants 
and  sea-captains  live  in  the  comfortable  mansions  surround- 
ing its  attractive  common  enclosed  by  rows  of  the  stately 
elms  that  also  line  the  chief  streets.     These  make  the  aris- 


220  AN   EASTERN  TOUR. 

tocracy  of  Salem,  having  lost  their  occupations,  while  the 
younger  and  more  active  generation,  like  so  many  of  their 
neighbors  along  these  coasts,  have  taken  to  shoemaking  and 
other  industries.  The  poi^ulation  is  standing  almost  still 
at  twenty-eight  thousand.  The  most  noted  man  of  Salem 
was  George  Peabody,  born  in  the  suburb  of  Dauvers,  and 
his  remains  rest  here.  This  suburb  changed  its  name  to 
Peabody,  and  in  the  Peabody  Institute,  which  he  founded 
there,  Queen  Victoria's  portrait,  her  gift  to  him,  is  kept  as 
a  sacred  relic.  Among  other  prominent  natives  of  Salem 
have  been  General  Putnam,  Nathaniel  Bowditch,  William 
H.  Prescott,  and  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

The  East  India  Marine  Hall  is  the  most  noted  institution 
of  Salem — a  fine  building  on  Essex  Street,  filled  with  a 
valuable  Oriental  collection  gathered  during  the  many 
voyages  made  by  the  mariners  of  the  town,  and  also  having 
a  Natural  History  Museum,  showing  the  development  of 
animal  life.  In  the  Essex  Institute  is  contained  the  orig- 
inal charter  given  by  King  Charles  I.  to  the  colony  of  Mas- 
sachusetts Bay.  There  is  also  carefully  kept  near  by  the 
original  "  First  Church,"  built  in  1634  (for  the  organization 
formed  in  1629),  and  of  which  Roger  Williams  was  the 
pastor  before  the  Puritans  banished  him.  Wlien  the  ex- 
panding congregation  afterward  built  a  larger  church,  this 
curious  little  house,  with  its  high-pointed  roof,  diamond- 
paned  windows,  and  gallery,  which  is  revered  as  the  shrine 
of  Salem,  was  removed  to  its  present  place,  and  is  carefully 
preserved.  In  Essex  Street  is  also  the  old  "  Roger  Wil- 
liams House,"  a  quaint,  low-roofed  structure,  with  a  little 
shop  in  front,  which  has  acquired  additional  fame  as  a  relic 
of  the  witchcraft  days,  for  in  it  was  held  the  court  that 
tiied  the  witches  who  were  afterward  taken  to  the  bare- 
topped  Gallows  Hill,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  to  be 
put  to  death.  This  witchcraft  delusion  began  in  the  Dan- 
vers  suburb  in  1692,  and  it  soon  overran  most  of  New  Eng- 
land.    During  more  than  a  year  the  persecutions  continued, 


THE  EXTEEMITY  OF  THE  CAPE.  221 

and  nineteen  proven  witches  were  put  to  death,  while  one, 
under  the  ancient  English  law,  was  pressed  to  death  for 
standing  mute  when  told  to  plead.  Old  Cotton  Mather, 
the  zealous  historian  and  divine,  was  among  the  leaders  in 
the  movement  against  the  witches,  and  when  the  frenzy- 
was  at  its  height  a  large  part  of  the  Salem  people  fled  in 
j)anic  from  the  town. 

THE    EXTREMITY    OF    THE    CAPE. 

Beyond  Salem  harbor  the  north  shore  stretches  far 
away  toward  the  north-east  down  the  cape,  with  its  old- 
fashioned  fishing-towns  in  a  transition  state  under  the 
modern  stimulus  of  Boston  villa-life,  that  brings  in  all 
kinds  of  strange  architecture  to  enhance  the  picturesque- 
ness  of  Beverly  and  Manchester  -  by  -  the  -  Sea.  The  old- 
time  trawlers  and  harpoon-men  and  skij^pers  of  Cape 
Ann  are  agog  at  the  change  made  in  most  things  here 
by  this  recent  invasion  of  fashion  and  artistic  building, 
though  they  don't  object  to  the  way  in  which  it  has  put 
up  the  price  of  town-lots  beyond  anything  ever  imagined 
•even  in  the  best  days  of  the  fisheries.  At  Beverly  lived 
Kathan  Dane,  the  eminent  Xew  England  jurist  whose  mem- 
ory is  preserved  in  Dane  Hall,  the  Harvard  Law  School. 
Beverly  also,  in  these  degenerate  days  for  the  fishermen, 
keeps  in  the  swim  by  giving  much  attention  to  shoemaking. 
The  magnificent  headlands  and  splendid  beaches  of  this 
coast  have  been  making  it  more  and  more  attractive  to 
the  summer  visitor,  so  that  it  is  spotted  with  clusters  of 
villas.  Crags  overhang  and  rocks  encompass  them  about, 
while  behind,  the  land  rises  into  the  dreary  hills  making 
the  backbone  of  the  peninsula,  which  is  well  called  "  the 
ridge  of  rocks  and  roses,"  terminating  in  the  gaunt  head- 
land of  Cape  Ann.  This  cape  is  a  mass  of  sienite,  forming 
low  hills,  over  the  surface  of  which  the  rock  is  generally 
exposed  to  view,  the  fields  being  strewn  with  boulders, 
many  of  large  size,  while  beds  of  pure  white  sand  inter- 


222  AN  EASTERN  TOUE. 

vene.  There  are  quarries  worked,  and  the  sand  and  gran- 
ite are  extensively  exported,  much  of  the  latter  coming  to 
Philadelphia  for  paving. 

It  is  among  these  granite  rocks  of  the  cape,  deeply  in- 
dented, al)out  four  miles  south-west  of  its  extremity,  that 
we  find  the  harbor  of  the  chief  New  England  fishing-port 
— Gloucester.  This  well-protected  and  capacious  harbor  is 
safe  in  all  weathers  and  easy  of  access,  having  a  sufficient 
depth  to  float  the  largest  vessels.  Its  inmost  recesses  are 
guarded  by  Ten-Pound  Island,  and  it  is  usually  filled  with 
fishing-smacks.  There  are  twenty-five  thousand  people 
living  here,  but  the  prevalent  odor  of  salt  fish  has  not 
prevented  the  fashionable  invasion  of  villas  and  summer- 
houses  that  is  such  a  couspicuous  feature  throughout  the 
north  shore.  Yet,  unlike  so  many  of  the  other  places, 
Gloucester  has  not  been  led  away  from  the  fisheries  by 
the  tempting  allurements  of  Massachusetts  shoemaking.  It 
sturdily  clings  to  its  cod  and  mackerel  trades,  and  is  by  far 
the  leading  port  in  the  number  of  its  fishermen  and  vessels 
and  the  value  of  the  catch,  while  its  manufactures  are  al- 
most entirely  confined  to  articles  pertaining  to  the  fisheries. 
It  has  seventy  wharves  and  six  marine  railways.  In  the 
compactly  built  and  handsome  town  surrounding  the  har- 
bor and  among  the  adjacent  granite  hills  are  concocted 
shrewd  methods  of  securing  fish  despite  the  international 
entanglements  of  the  vexing  fishery  question.  But  this 
fascinating  trade  is  full  of  dangers,  and  Gloucester  loses 
many  lives  and  vessels  every  year,  so  that  it  has  the  fatal 
celebrity  of  containing  the  largest  population  of  widows 
and  orphans  of  any  city  in  the  United  States.  It  was  here 
in  1713  was  built  the  first  vessel  of  the  favorite  American 
rig  known  as  the  schooner,  a  class  of  easy  navigation  now 
making  up  the  largest  portion  of  our  merchant  marine. 
It  has  always  been  a  great  school  for  the  sailor,  and 'the 
tone  and  temper  of  its  people  show  that  it  hopes  to  keep 
on  with  the  fisheries,  come  what  may.     Beyond  this  model 


GOING  DOWN  EAST.  223 

fishery-town  is  the  extremity  of  the  cape,  where  the  pon- 
derous rocky  buttresses  have  been  broken  down  by  the 
Atlantic  to  form  another  small  but  well-sheltered  harbor. 
Upon  its  shores,  at  an  elevation  of  about  ninety  feet  above 
the  sea  and  standing  about  six  hundred  yards  apart,  are 
the  two  fixed  lights  of  Cape  Ann,  the  well-known  beacons 
marking  the  great  headland  thrust  out  into  the  ocean 
which  makes  the  northern  limit  of  Massachusetts  Bay. 


XXXI. 

GOING  DOWN  EAST. 


For  a  good  while  we  have  been  steadily  journeying 
toward  the  rising  sun,  and  ever  on  the  search  for  that 
mythical  and  elusive  region  known  as  "  Down  East."  We 
of  Philadelphia  are  accustomed  to  regard  the  land  beyond 
New  York  as  the  veritable  "  Down  East."  But  when  we 
got  among  the  Connecticut  Yankee  notions,  and  inquired 
if  we  were  in  the  true  locality,  the  people  looked  doubtful 
and  pointed  farther  onward.  Likewise  in  Massachusetts 
we  are  still  chasing  the  golden  treasures  underlying  the 
end  of  the  brilliant  rainbow  arch,  for  the  natives  look  wise 
and  tell  us  the  true  "  Down  East "  is  still  farther  toward 
the  rising  sun.  Now  we  pass  beyond  the  great  headland 
of  Cape  Ann,  yet  bent  upon  the  search :  it  is  beyond  us. 
Samuel  Adams  Drake  tells  of  putting  the  momentous 
question  to  a  Maine  fisherman  who  was  getting  up  his  sail 
on  the  Penobscot :  "  Whither  bound  ?"  Promptly  came 
back  the  answer :  "  Sir,  to  you — Down  East."  This  myth- 
ical land  we  thus  ever  pursue,  and  it  ever  eludes  us ;  but 
enough  has  already  been  learnt  on  this  tour  to  conclude 
that  the  true  "  Down  East "  must  be  far  beyond  the  New 


224  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR. 

England  border,  and  among  the  "  Kanucks "  and  "  Blue 
Noses  "  of  the  Canadian  maritime  provinces. 

Resuming  the  Eastern  journey  beyond  Cape  Ann,  we 
cross  the  broadening  North  River  out  of  Salem,  and  pass 
among  the  wooden  houses  and  shoe-factories  of  its  ancient 
suburb  of  Beverly,  with  their  environment  of  truck-gar- 
dens, and  the  high  reservoir  on  the  hill  to  the  south-east, 
where  Salem  stores  her  water-supply  drawn  from  Wenham 
Lake.  This  noted  ice-producer,  with  its  capacious  ice- 
houses, is  near  the  railway,  while  upon  the  ocean  front 
spread  the  splendid  beaches  of  Beverly,  Manchester,  and 
Magnolia.  Then  we  cross  the  valley  of  Ipswich  River, 
with  the  pretty  town  covering  both  sloping  banks,  with 
scattered  cottages  among  the  foliage,  and  having  the  grave- 
yard perched  on  the  opposite  hill — a  region  of  green  fields 
and  prolific  orchards,  seeming  almost  like  an  oasis  amid  the 
desert  of  sands  and  rocks  left  behind  us.  Not  far  in  the 
interior  is  the  town  of  Andover,  where  the  thrifty  fathers 
of  the  Church,  having  bought  the  domain  from  the  Indians 
"  for  twenty-six  dollars  and  sixty-four  cents  and  a  coat," 
established  the  noted  theological  seminary  of  the  Congre- 
gational Church,  where  its  ablest  divines  have  been  taught 
in  what  has  been  called  "  the  school  of  the  prophets."  Here 
on  "  Andover  Hill "  abstruse  theology  has  been  the  ruling 
influence  since  the  opening  of  this  century,  and  intense 
religious  controversies  have  been  waged,  some  three  thou- 
sand clergymen  having  been  graduated.  The  seminary 
buildings,  the  local  guide  tells  us,  cause  visitors  to  wonder 
'•  if  orthodox  angels  have  not  lifted  up  old  Harvard  and 
Massachusetts  Halls  and  carried  them  by  night  from  Cam- 
bridge to  Andover  Hill."  Ipswich,  too,  has  its  seminary, 
but  it  is  for  the  opposite  sex,  although  fully  as  noted.  One 
reason  we  are  told  for  the  popularity  of  Ipswich  Female 
Seminary  is  that  it  tends  to  soften  the  rigors  of  study,  for 
this  is  the  place  "  where  Andover  theological  students  a-re 
wont  to  take  unto  themselves  wives  of  the  daughters  of  the 


CEOSSING  NEW  HAMPSHIKE.         -         225 

Puritans."  The  shore  of  noble  Ipswich  Bay,  indented  north 
of  Cape  Ann,  was  the  ancient  Agawam,  where  the  redoubt- 
able Captain  John  Smith  coasted  along  in  1614,  and  made 
a  record  in  his  narrative  of  "  the  many  corn-fields  and  de- 
lightful groves  of  Agawam,"  then  a  flourishing  Indian 
village. 

CROSSING   NEW   HAMPSHIRE. 

But  the  brief  Ipswich  oasis  is  soon  passed,  and,  crossing 
moors  and  salt-marshes  and  among  patches  of  scrub  timber 
with  protruding  rocks,  we  reach  the  Massachusetts  eastern 
boundary  at  the  noted  Merrimac  River  and  Newburyport. 
Rounded  hills  surround  the  town,  and,  tunnelling  under 
these,  the  train  runs  into  the  collection  of  wooden  houses 
so  largely  composing  it.  The  INIerrimac  flows  from  the 
westward  past  the  famous  factory -towns  of  Lowell  and 
Lawrence,  Nashua  and  Manchester — a  river  of  frequent 
waterfalls,  furnishing  immense  power  to  the  mills.  It  is  a 
narrow  stream  carrying  a  powerful  current,  and  broadens 
into  a  spacious  harbor  at  its  mouth,  where  Newburyport 
is  built  on  the  southern  shore,  having  its  splendid  High 
Street,  one  of  the  noted  tree-embowered  highways  of  New 
England,  stretching  for  several  miles  parallel  to  the  river 
down  toward  the  sea,  bordered  with  the  stately  mansions 
of  the  olden  time.  This  is  a  quiet  town,  standing  almost 
still  in  the  modern  march  of  progress,  its  decayed  foreign 
commerce  and  shipbuilding  being  largely  replaced  by 
manufactures,  as  in  most  of  these  New  England  coast- 
cities.  Here  lived  in  the  last  century  the  eccentric  mer- 
chant Timothy  Dexter,  who  is  said  to  have  shipped  a  cargo 
of  warming-pans  to  the  West  Indies,  and  made  a  fortune 
out  of  that  and  similar  odd  business  ventures.  Here  also 
lived  Caleb  Cushing  and  John  B.  Gough,  and  the  noted 
preacher  George  Whitefield  is  buried  in  its  old  South  Pres- 
byterian Church,  while  behind  this  church  is  the  little 
wooden  house  where  William  Lloyd  Garrison  was  born. 

15 


226  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

AVe  cross  the  Merrimac  on  an  elevated  bridge  affording 
fine  views  both  up  and  down  the  river,  which  sweeps  out  in 
a  broad  curve  to  the  ocean  three  miles  below,  seen  through 
the  gauzy  trusses  of  a  wagon-bridge  in  front  of  us.  Thus 
is  the  State  of  New  Hampshire  entered,  rocks  being  thrust 
up  everywhere  through  the  thin  covering  of  soil  in  its 
border-town  of  Seabrook,  whose  inhabitants  are  hereabout 
known  as  the  "  Algerines."  Salt-marshes,  winding  streams 
leading  down  to  the  sea  (appropriate  to  the  name  of  Sea- 
brook),  forests  and  rocks,  vary  the  view  with  long  sandy 
beaches  bordering  them  out  on  the  ocean  front,  and  the 
foaming  line  of  breakers  rolling  in  as  we  gaze  off  at  the 
distant  clusters  of  seaside  hotels  and  cottages,  with  the 
exhilarating  salt  air  blowing  upon  us.  The  first  passed  is 
Salisbury  Beach,  one  of  the  noted  New  Hampshire  coast 
resorts,  where  the  people  by  many  thousands  congregate  on 
a  day  late  in  August  to  have  a  good  time,  thus  annually 
renewing  a  custom  they  have  observed  for  more  than  two 
centuries.  Here  Whittier  pitched  his  Tent  07i  the  Beach  he 
has  so  graphically  described.  Next  comes  Hampton  Beach, 
and  then  the  famous  Rye  Beach,  the  latter  being  the  most 
fashionable,  and  their  sojourners  crowd  in  and  out  of  the 
railway-train.  It  was  at  the  little  village  of  Hampton 
that  occurred  in  1737  the  parley  which  resulted  in  giving 
the  infant  colony  of  New  Hampshire  its  narrow  border  on 
the  sea-coast.  This  region  had  been  settled  by  Massachu- 
setts, and  that  province  was  bound  to  possess  it,  although 
the  king  had  made  an  adverse  grant.  Into  Hampton  rode 
in  grand  state  the  governor  of  Massachusetts  at  the  head 
of  his  legislature  and  escorted  by  five  troops  of  horse,  for- 
mally demanding  possession  of  the  maritime  townships. 
He  met  the  governor  of  New  Hampshire  in  the  George 
Tavern,  and  the  demand  was  refused.  The  latter  governor 
sent  a  plaintive  appeal  to  the  king,  declaring  that  "  the 
vast,  opulent,  and  overgrown  province  of  Massachusetts 
was  devouring  the  poor  little,  loyal,  distressed  province 


PORTSMOUTH  AND  KITTERY.  227 

of  New  Hampshire."  The  royal  heart,  we  are  told,  was 
touched,  and  the  kmg  commanded  Massachusetts  to  sur- 
render her  claim  to  two  tiers  of  townships,  twenty-eight  in 
number,  thus  giving  New  Hampshire  her  present  sea-coast, 
a  narrow  strip  of  only  eighteen  miles  width.  The  seaside 
hotel  and  cottage,  developing  farther  inland  into  farms 
with  stately  old  mansions,  are  the  universal  development 
of  this  region.  The  plains  near  the  coast  do  not,  however, 
stretch  far  into  the  interior,  for  the  surface  soon  becomes 
broken  and  rugged,  rising  into  higher  and  higher  hills 
until  they  culminate  in  the  magnificent  scenery  of  the 
White  Mountains.  In  fact,  between  its  popular  sea- 
beaches,  splendid  lakes,  and  grand  mountain-district  New 
Hampshire  is  an  almost  universal  resort  for  the  tourist  and 
summer  saunterer,  and  is  filled  with  hotels  and  boarding- 
houses,  some  bearing  most  aristocratic  names.  It  is  not 
singular,  therefore,  that  the  shaft  of  satire  should  have 
been  levelled  during  the  recent  moist  season  at  one  of  the 
many  hotels  of  this  scenic  State : 

"In  a  certain  part  of  New  Hampshire, 
Where  the  true  name  should  be  '  Dampshire,' 

Where  the  chills  and  fever  run  the  summer  through, 
A  tavern  unpretentious 
Has  a  host  so  conscientious 

That  he  calls  his  boarding-house  the  *  Montague.' " 

PORTSMOUTH   AND    KITTERY. 

It  does  not  take  long  for  the  railway-train  to  cross  the 
narrow  strip  of  New  Hampshire — only  about  thirty-five 
minutes — between  Newburyport  and  Portsmouth,  from  the 
Merrimac  to  the  Piscataqua  River,  between  which  it  is  en- 
closed. In  a  brief  space  we  are  upon  the  border  of  Ports- 
mouth, and  pass  "  Frank  Jones  &  Son's  Brewery,"  emitting 
a  strong  odor  of  not  very  fresh  beer,  and  a  reminder  of  the 
man  who  is  a  robust  opponent  of  prohibitory  laws  and  is 
said  to  chiefly  own  this  part  of  New  Hampshire.     He  has 


228  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

been  shrewd  enough  to  recently  sell  his  great  brewery  to 
an  English  syndicate  for  a  round  sum,  Portsmouth  is  a 
small  town,  quiet  and  quaint,  the  river  flowing  past  with 
rapid  tidal  stream,  and  having  upon  an  island  of  the  oppo- 
site shore  the  well-known  Kittery  Navy-yard  of  Maine. 
This  river  is  really  a  strait,  broadening  into  a  bay  some 
distance  above  Portsmouth,  and  thus  carrying  such  an 
enormous  tidal  current  that  the  harbor  is  always  free 
from  ice.  In  this  venerable  and  tranquil  place,  which 
has  stood  still  for  a  good  while,  commerce  has  about  sur- 
rendered sway  to  the  superior  attractions  of  the  modern 
summer  resort,  and  one  almost  envies  the  home-like  charms 
of  the  comfortable  old  dwellings  that  slumber  in  their  ex- 
tensive gardens.  To  this  spot  came  "  the  founder  of  New 
Hampshire,"  Captain  Mason,  who  had  been  the  governor 
of  the  South  Sea  Castle  in  Portsmouth  harbor,  England, 
and  at  his  suggestion  the  settlement,  originally  called 
Strawberry  Bank  from  the  abundance  of  its  growth  of 
wild  strawberries,  was  called  Portsmouth.  He  wrote  that 
it  was  "  a  name  most  suitable  for  the  place,  it  being  the 
river's  mouth,  and  as  good  as  any  in  the  land."  The  old 
town  to-day  has  barely  nine  thousand  people.  Its  quiet- 
ness and  ancient  ways  have  been  too  tame  for  the  younger 
generation,  who  have  gone  elsewhere  to  seek  their  fortunes. 
Portsmouth  harbor  is  bordered  by  islands,  and  in  fact  the 
whole  region  adjacent  to  the  Piscataqua  seeuis  interlaced 
with  waterways,  dividing  it  into  many  islands  with  pic- 
turesque shores,  some  of  them  yet  bearing  the  remains  of 
the  old  forts  that  defended  the  port  in  the  troublous  colo- 
nial times.  Upon  Continental  Island  is  the  Kittery  Navy- 
yard,  near  which  is  the  village  of  Kittery  Point,  where 
was  born  and  is  buried  the  greatest  man  of  colonial  fame 
in  these  parts,  Sir  William  Pepperell,  the  famous  leader  of 
the  expedition  that  captured  Louisburg  from  the  French  in 
1745,  for  which  he  was  knighted. 


"LADY  WENTWOETH  OF  THE  HALL."         229 

"lady  wentworth  of  the  hall." 

Among  the  islands  adjoining  Portsmouth  harbor,  and 
having  a  broad  beach  facing  the  sea,  is  Newcastle  Island, 
which  for  the  annual  fee  of  three  peppercorns  was  incor- 
porated by  King  William  III.  and  Queen  Mary.     Here 
lived   in  semi-regal  state  the  Wentworths,  who  were  the 
colonial  governors,  and  their  memory  is  preserved  in  the 
colossal  Wentworth  Hotel,  whose  vast  proportions  are  vis- 
ible far  over  land  and  sea.     Newcastle  Village  to-day  is 
a  straggling  fishing-settlement,  but  the  Wentworth  man- 
sion  at  Little  Harbor,  wherein  Avas  held  the  provincial 
court,  still  remains — an  irregular,  quaint,  but  picturesque 
building  of  considerable  size,  having  within  it  the  council- 
chamber  and  some  interesting  old  portraits.     Far  away  to 
the  northward  rises  the  isolated  peak  of  the  adjacent  Maine 
coast,  the  broad-topped  Mount  Agamenticus,  which  was 
the  throne  of  the  Indian  sagamore  Passaconoway,  whom 
the  local  legends  describe  as  St.  Aspenquid.     To  the  south- 
ward is  the  wide  sweep  of  Ipswich  Bay,  enclosed  by  the 
long,  slender  arm  of  Cape  Ann,  and  having  in  its  graceful 
curve  the  Rye  and  Hampton  Beaches.     The  most  noted 
occupant  of  Wentworth  House  was  the  courtly  but  gouty 
old  governor  Benning  Wentworth,  who  named   Benning- 
ton, Vermont,  and  whose  wedding  on  his  sixtieth  birthday 
has  given  Longfellow  one  of  his  most  striking  themes.     As 
we  read  his  graceful  poem  one  can   almost  see  Martha 
Hilton  as  she  goes  along  the  street  swinging  her  pail  and 
splashing  with  the  water  her  naked  feet.     Mistress  Stavers 
in  her  furbelows,  the  buxom  landlady  at  the  inn,  feels 
called  upon  to  give  her  sharp  reproof: 

"  '  Oh,  Martha  Hilton  !  fie  !  how  dare  vou  go 
About  the  town  half-dressed  and  looking  so  ?' " 

To  this  the  gypsy  laughed  and  saucily  replied : 

"  '  No  matter  how  I  look,  I  yet  shall  ride 
In  my  own  chariot,  ma'am.'  " 


230  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

In  course  of  time  Martha  came  to  be  employed  at  "Went- 
■worth  House  as  maid-of-all-work,  not  wholly  unobserved 
by  the  old  governor,  as  the  sequel  proved.  He  arranged 
a  feast  for  his  sixtieth  birthday,  and  all  the  great  people 
of  the  colony  were  at  his  table.     Of  it  the  poet  sings : 

"  When  they  had  drunk  the  king  with  many  a  cheer, 
The  governor  whispered  in  a  servant's  ear, 
"VVho  disappeared,  and  presently  there  stood 
Within  the  room,  in  perfect  womanhood, 
A  maiden,  modest,  and  yet  self-possessed, 
Youthful  and  beautiful,  and  simply  dressed. 
Can  this  be  Martha  Hilton  ?     It  must  be ! 
Yes,  Martha  Hilton,  and  no  other  she! 
Dowered  with  the  beauty  of  her  twenty  years, 
How  ladylike,  how  queeulike,  she  appears ! 
The  pale,  thin  crescent  of  the  days  gone  by 
Is  Dian  now  in  all  her  majesty. 
Yet  scarce  a  guest  perceived  that  she  was  there, 
Until  the  governor,  rising  from  his  chair. 
Played  slightly  with  his  ruffles,  then  looked  down, 
And  said  unto  the  Reverend  Arthur  Brown: 

*  This  is  my  birthday ;  it  shall  likewise  be 
My  wedding-day,  and  you  shall  marry  me.' 

"  The  listening  guests  were  greatly  mystified : 
None  more  so  than  the  rector,  who  replied, 

*  Marry  you  ?     Yes,  that  were  a  pleasant  task, 
Your  Excellency  ;  but  to  whom  ?  I  ask.' 
The  governor  answered,  *  To  this  lady  here,' 
And  beckoned  Martha  Hilton  to  draw  near. 
She  came  and  stood,  all  blushes,  at  his  side. 

The  rector  paused.     The  impatient  governor  cried, 

*  This  is  the  lady.     Do  you  hesitate  ? 
Then  I  command  you  as  chief  magistrate.' 
The  rector  read  the  service  loud  and  clear : 

'  Dearly  beloved,  we  are  gathered  here,' 
And  so  on  to  the  end.     At  his  command 
On  the  fourth  finger  of  her  fair  left  hand 
The  governor  placed  the  ring ;  and  that  was  all : 
Martha  was  Lady  Wentworth  of  the  Hall  I" 


THE  ISLES  OF  SHOALS.  231 

XXXII. 

THE  ISLES  OF  SHOALS. 

One  of  the  strangest  places  on  tlie  Atlantic  coast  is  the 
collection  of  crags  and  reefs  out  in  the  ocean  off  Ports- 
mouth harbor  known  as  the  Isles  of  Shoals.  We  start 
from  the  wharf  on  a  little  steamer  to  go  out  there.  The 
tidal  current  of  the  Piscataqua  Kiver  moves  swiftly  past 
the  almost  idle  wharves  of  the  town,  where  two  or  three 
schooners  are  unloading  Pennsylvania  coal.  The  front  of 
the  port  gives  evidence  that  a  large  commerce  once  existed, 
but  has  passed  away,  for  many  of  the  quays  are  now  aban- 
doned and  overgrown  with  weeds.  Yachts  and  row-boats 
dot  the  water,  as  pleasure-seekers  are  numerous,  and  over 
opposite  is  the  State  of  Maine,  its  shores  being  a  succession 
of  islands,  the  white  buildings  of  the  navy-yard,  its  ship- 
houses,  and  dock  spreading  broadly  across  the  view.  The 
flag  floats  from  a  tall  staff,  and  a  little  steam-launch  briskly 
crosses  the  river  toward  us,  making  a  sort  of  ferry,  but  the 
navy-yard  itself  seems  almost  idle,  a  vessel  or  two  being 
outfitted,  and  the  vast  establishment,  much  like  League 
Island,  is  waiting  for  the  new  American  navy  to  be 
created,  so  that  it  may  get  business.  The  green  and 
sloping  shores  of  the  surrounding  islands  frame  it  in  and 
make  a  pleasant  picture,  while  a  corvette  moored  in  front 
has  her  flag  flying  apeak,  ready  to  go  to  sea.  We  steam 
down  the  crooked  river,  threading  our  way  among  the  isl- 
ands of  the  harbor,  passing  the  abandoned  forts  below  the 
town,  and  skirting  the  attractive  shore  of  Newcastle  Island 
and  its  fishing  village,  with  the  huge  Wentworth  Hotel  ris- 
ing against  the  southern  sky.  Soon  we  pass  the  lighthouses, 
and,  leaving  Whale's  Eack  Light  on  our  left,  are  out  at 
sea.  Ahead,  and  about  six  miles  off*  shore,  looms  up  the 
dim  and  shadowy  outline  of  the  islands,  lying  like  a  cloud 
along  the  edge  of  the  horizon.     The  prow  is  turned  toward 


232  AN  EASTERN  TOUE. 

them  as  we  go  bounding  over  the  long  rolling  billows  that 
come  up  before  the  fresh  southerly  wind.  As  the  steamboat 
approaches,  the  islands  gradually  rise  and  expand  to  view 
as  they  separate  into  their  respective  forms,  the  chief  being 
Appledore,  which  rises  from  the  sea  much  like  a  hog's  back, 
and  hence  the  original  name  of  Hog  Island. 

There  are  nine  islands  in  the  group.  The  largest  is  Ap- 
pledore, covering  about  four  hundred  acres,  and  the  whole 
of  them  do  not  aggregate  much  over  six  hundred  acres. 
Star  Island  has  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres.  Haley's,  or 
Smutty  Nose,  with  JMalaga  and  Cedar,  which  are  connected 
by  a  sort  of  bar  or  breakwater,  together  have  about  one 
hundred  acres.  There  are  four  smaller  islets — Duck, 
White,  Seavey's,  and  Londoner's — and  upon  White  Island 
is  the  lighthouse  for  the  group,  with  a  great  revolving  light 
having  alternating  red  and  white  flashes,  elevated  eighty- 
seven  feet  and  visible  fifteen  miles  out  at  sea.  A  covered 
way  leads  back  over  the  crags  from  the  tower  to  the  keep- 
er's cottage.  The  Isles  of  Shoals  are  a  remarkable  forma- 
tion— rugged  ledges  of  rock  out  in  the  ocean,  bearing 
scarcely  any  vegetation.  On  some  of  them  not  a  blade 
of  grass  is  seen.  Four  of  them,  stretching  in  a  line,  make 
the  outside  of  the  strange  group — bare  reefs,  with  water- 
worn  flinty  surfaces,  against  which  the  sea  beats  with  all 
the  force  of  thousands  of  miles  of  gathering  waves.  Not  a 
tree  grew  on  any  of  the  group  until  a  little  one  was  planted 
on  Appledore  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  another  dwarf  was 
coaxed  to  grow  in  the  little  graveyard  on  Star  Island. 
Their  best  vegetation  was  low  whortleberry-bushes  until 
somebody  thought  of  gathering  soil  enough  to  make  some 
grass  patches  for  a  cow  or  two.  No  one  can  describe  the 
utter  desolation  of  these  rocks,  thus  cast  ofl",  apparently, 
from  the  rest  of  the  world. 


THE  STEANGE  FORMATION  OF  THE  ISLES.    233 

THE   STRANGE    FORMATION    OF   THE    ISLES. 

Yet  the  Isles  of  Shoals  have  their  admirers.  Celia  Thax- 
ter  the  poetess  was  the  daughter  of  the  lightkeeper,  and  to 
her  glowing  pen  much  of  their  fame  is  due,  which  has  cul- 
minated in  establishing  on  these  wind-swept  rocks  an  abid- 
ing-place for  summer  fashion.  "  Swept  by  every  wind  that 
blows,"  she  writes,  "  and  beaten  by  the  bitter  brine  for  un- 
known ages,  well  may  the  Isles  of  Shoals  be  barren,  bleak, 
and  bare.  At  first  sight  nothing  can  be  more  rough  and 
inhospitable  than  they  appear.  But  to  the  human  creature 
who  has  eyes  that  will  see  and  ears  that  will  hear  Nature 
appeals  with  such  a  novel  charm  that  the  luxurious  beauty 
of  the  land  is  half  forgotten  before  one  is  aware.  The  very 
wildness  and  desolation  reveal  a  strange  beauty  to  him.  In 
the  early  morning  the  sea  is  rosy  and  the  sky  ;  the  line  of 
land  is  radiant ;  the  scattered  sails  glow  with  the  delicious 
color  that  touches  so  tenderly  the  bare,  bleak  rocks." 

The  curious  name  of  these  islands  first  appears  in  the 
log  of  their  early  discoverer,  Champlain,  the  geographer 
for  the  noted  Frenchman,  Sieur  des  Monts,  who  had  a  grant 
for  all  this  region.  Champlain  found  them  as  he  coasted 
along  in  1605.  From  the  earliest  times  they  Avere  prolific 
fishing-grounds,  and  the  name  of  the  Isles  of  Shoals  is  gen- 
erally believed  to  have  been  given  from  "  the  shoaling,  or 
schoolinor,  of  the  fish  "  around  them.  In  a  deed  from  the 
Indian  sagamores  to  John  AVheelwright  and  some  others 
in  1629  they  are  called  the  "Isles  of  Shoals."  The  re- 
doubtable Captain  John  Smith,  who  had  so  much  to  do 
with  early  American  exploration,  visited  and  described 
them  in  1614,  and  tried  to  attach  to  them  the  name  of 
"  Smith's  Islands,"  but  he  was  not  successful.  The  State 
boundary-line  between  New  Hampshire  and  Maine  passes 
through  the  group  between  Star  and  Appledore.  Owing 
to  their  peculiar  grouping,  quite  a  good  harbor,  and  the 
only  secure  one,  is  formed  between  these  two,  opening  to 


234  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

the  westward,  and  being  enclosed  by  Smutty  Nose,  Star, 
and  Cedar  Islands,  so  that  it  is  amply  protected  from  the 
sea.  Into  this  our  steamer  glides,  halting  first  at  Apple- 
dore  and  then  at  Star  Island  to  land  its  passengers.  The 
curious  development  of  rocks  and  desolation,  relieved  by 
a  little  artificiality  in  the  form  of  flower-beds,  strikes  the 
beholder  with  amazement.  These  rugged  crags  resemble 
the  bald  and  rounded  peaks  of  a  sunken  volcano  thrust 
upward  from  the  sea,  with  this  little  harbor  forming  its 
crater.  When  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  was  induced  to  come 
out  here  he  gazed  upon  their  curious  and  impressive  forma- 
tion, and  then  wrote,  "  As  much  as  anything  else,  it  seems 
as  if  some  of  the  massive  materials  of  the  world  remained 
superfluous  after  the  Creator  had  finished,  and  were  care- 
lessly thrown  down  here,  where  the  millionth  part  of  them 
emerge  from  the  sea,  and  in  the  course  of  thousands  of 
years  have  become  partially  bestrewn  with  a  little  soil." 
The  savagery  of  these  isolated  rocks  during  violent  storms, 
when  surrounded  by  almost  perpetual  surf  and  exposed  to 
the  ocean's  greatest  fury,  becomes  almost  overwhelming, 
and  they  actually  seem  to  reel  beneath  one's  feet.  The 
peculiar  novelty  of  the  position  impresses  the  visitor.  The 
eternal  plash  and  boom  of  ocean's  waters  on  every  side  are 
the  constant  sounds,  and  it  is  easy  to  believe  you  are  far 
out  at  sea. 

THEIR   ODD   HISTORY. 

Star  Island  has  some  history,  and  until  they  were  sent 
away  and  their  cottages  removed  to  make  way  for  the  sum- 
mer hotel  it  had  a  village  of  fishermen.  It  was  the  town 
of  Gosport,  and  has  its  little  church,  visible  with  its  tiny 
bell-tower  many  miles  over  the  water.  The  original  Gos- 
port church  was  built  of  the  timbers  from  the  wreck  of  a 
Spanish  vessel  in  1685,  and  was  rebuilt  shortly  afterward, 
and  burnt  by  the  islanders  in  1790.  The  present  little 
stone  church  is  as  old  as  this  century.     This  charge  had 


THEIR  ODD  HISTORY.  235 

several  faithful  clergymen,  -who  are  buried  on  the  island. 
It  was  here  that  Rev.  John  Brook  ministered,  of  whom  the 
quaint  historian  Cotton  Mather  relates  this  anecdote  illus- 
trating the  efficacy  of  prayer:  A  child  lay  sick  and  so 
nearly  dead  those  present  believed  it  had  actually  expired, 
"  but  Mr.  Brook,  perceiving  some  life  in  it,  goes  to  prayer, 
and  in  his  prayer  used  this  expression :  '  Lord,  wilt  thou 
not  grant  some  sign  before  we  leave  prayer  that  thou  "svilt 
spare  and  heal  this  child  ?  We  cannot  leave  thee  till  we 
have  it.'  The  child  sneezed  immediately."  On  the  highest 
part  of  Star  Island  is  the  broken  monument  erected  to 
Captain  John  Smith,  which  was  put  up  by  his  admirers 
not  many  years  ago.  It  was  a  triangular  shaft  of  marble 
rising  from  a  triangular  base  of  hewn  stones  placed  upon 
the  crag.  It  bore  three  heads — representing  three  Moslems 
slain  by  Smith  and  seen  on  his  escutcheon — but  vandals 
have  thrown  the  structure  down  and  the  broken  fragments 
lie  there,  making  the  monument  as  desolate  as  its  bleak 
surroundings.  Likewise  the  old  graveyard.  The  little  fort 
that  defended  Star  Island  in  colonial  times  has  been  aban- 
doned for  a  century,  and  nestling  beneath  it  is  the  little 
graveyard,  part  of  the  walls  remaining.  It  is  overgrown 
w'ith  grass  and  weeds,  and  has  a  few  gravestones  which  are 
gradually  reeling  over,  as  gravestones  will  when  no  loving 
hands  care  for  them.  A  sorry-looking,  dilapidated  picket- 
fence  tries  to  fill  some  of  the  gaps  in  the  walls.  All  the 
original  inhabitants  of  the  island  are  dead,  their  descend- 
ants scattered,  and  fashionable  pleasuring  now  replaces 
their  fishing-huts  and  nets  and  boats  on  this  rocky  desert 
and  its  environment  of  restless  waters. 

As  might  be  expected,  a  place  like  this  was  a  favorite 
haunt  for  pirates  in  the  colonial  days.  When  they  were 
caught  and  condemned,  the  old-time  Puritan  parsons,  as  a 
sort  of  preparative  before  they  were  hanged,  would  have 
them  brought  into  church,  and  then  preach  long  and  pow- 
erful sermons  to  them  on  the  enormity  of  their  crimes  and 


236  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

the  deserved  torments  awaiting  them  in  the  other  world. 
Around  these  islands  cruised  Hawkins,  Phillips,  and  Pound, 
notorious  pirates  two  centuries  ago.  It  is  related  of  Phil- 
lips that  he  seized  a  fishing-vessel  named  the  Dolphin,  and 
made  her  sailors  all  turn  pirates.  Among  them  was  John 
Fillmore,  who  rebelled,  and,  starting  a  mutiny,  killed  the 
pirate  chief,  afterward  successfully  taking  the  Dolphin  back 
to  Boston.  This  brave  man's  great-grandson  was  President 
Millard  Fillmore.  Another  pirate.  Low,  captured  a  fish- 
ing-smack off  the  islands,  but,  disappointed  of  booty,  first 
had  his  captives  flogged,  and  then  gave  each  one  the  alter- 
native of  being  hanged  or  of  three  times  vigorously  curs- 
ing old  Parson  Cotton  Mather.  With  alacrity,  it  is  said, 
they  did  the  latter.  Captain  Kidd  sailed  these  shores  and 
buried  his  treasures  here,  as  he  did  in  many  other  places, 
and  the  ghost  of  one  of  Kidd's  men  is  reported  to  still 
haunt  Appledore.  The  renowned  Blackbeard  also  haunted 
the  Isles  of  Shoals,  When  the  pirates  disappeared  these 
reefs  degenerated  into  the  haunt  of  the  smuggler,  for  whose 
stealthy  calling  they  seem  appropriately  adapted. 


THEIR   GRAND   OUTLOOK. 

Gazing  shoreward  from  these  islands  at  the  close  of  day 
there  is  a  sight  worth  seeing.  Far  away  are  the  White 
Mountains  with  sunset  hues  behind  them.  The  foreground 
gives  the  broad-spreading  New  England  shore-line,  with 
Aramenticus  and  its  attendant  summits  ofi'  to  the  north- 
ward,  and  in  front  the  steeples  of  Portsmouth  and  New- 
buryport  and  their  intervening  beaches.  The  smoke  of 
many  inland  villages  rises  in  the  distance,  and  the  colossal 
Wentworth  Hotel  has  its  galaxy  of  electric  lights  in  front 
of  Portsmouth,  while  the  eye  sweeps  with  the  south  coast 
around  Ipswich  Bay  to  Cape  Ann  thrust  far  out  into  the 
ocean.  At  our  feet  is  the  little  harbor  bearing  its  galaxy 
of  yachts  and  skifts,  that  vary  their  sailing  and  fishing 


THEIE  GRAND  OUTLOOK.  237 

with  the  flirtations  of  the  j)lace  to  make  a  round  of  amuse- 
ments.    The  sun  sinks  and  twilight  comes.     Then 

"  From  the  dim  headlands  many  a  lighthouse  gleams, 
The  street-lamps  of  the  ocean," 

Whale's  Back  Light,  at  the  Portsmouth  entrance,  flashes 
six  miles  away,  and  the  monster  twin-lights  of  Thatcher's 
Island  send  their  steady  radiance  out  to  us  twenty  miles 
across  the  waters  from  Cape  Ann.  Almost  at  our  elbow 
White  Island  alternates  its  red  and  white  revolving  blaze. 
Far  away  to  the  north-east  a  single  white  star  appears.  It 
is  eleven  miles  off*,  on  the  solitary  rock  of  Boon  Island  out 
in  mid-ocean,  where  not  a  pound  of  soil  exists  excepting 
what  has  been  carried  there.  One  of  the  worst  wrecks 
ever  known  occurred  here  before  this  lighthouse  was  built. 
The  I^ottingham,  from  London,  was  driven  ashore,  the 
crew  with  difficulty  gaining  the  rock  when  the  ship  broke 
up.  They  had  no  food,  and  day  by  day  their  sufferings 
from  cold  and  hunger  increased.  The  mainland  was  in 
full  view,  and  they  built  a  boat  of  pieces  of  the  wreck  to 
try  and  get  there,  but  the  weaves  dashed  it  to  pieces.  They 
saw  vessels  and  signalled,  but  could  not  attract  attention. 
They  sank  gradually  into  an  almost  hopeless  band  of 
miserable  wretches,  but  thought  to  make  another  effort. 
A  rude  raft  was  constructed,  and  two  of  them  tried  to 
reach  the  shore.  It,  too,  was  wrecked,  being  found  two 
days  later  on  the  beach,  with  a  dead  man  lying  near  by. 
Then  hope  entirely  failed  them,  and  to  sustain  life  they 
bad  to  become  cannibals,  living  on  the  body  of  the  ship's 
carpenter  sparingly  doled  out  to  them  by  the  captain. 
But  eventually  they  were  rescued,  the  wrecked  raft  being 
their  preserver.  When  it  was  found,  the  people  on  shore 
started  a  search  for  the  builders,  and  they  were  taken  off" 
after  passing  twenty-four  days  in  starvation  on  the  island. 
As  we  muse  upon  this  horror  the  fog,  the  bane  of  our 
northern  coasts,  closes  in  about  us,  the  lights  disappear, 


238  AN  EASTEEN  TOUK. 

and  in  their  place  from  far  over  the  sea  come  the  distant 
deep-voiced  blasts  of  the  fog-sirens,  another  warning  to  the 
mariner.  Then  the  fog  breaks  to  the  northward — for  it 
often  goes  as  quickly  as  it  comes — and  again  gleams  out 
the  steady  white  star  from  Boon  Island: 

*'  Steadfast,  serene,  immovable,  the  same 

Year  after  year,  through  all  the  silent  night 
Burns  on  for  evermore  that  quenchless  flame, 
Shines  on  that  inextinguishable  light ! 

"  A  new  Prometheus  chained  upon  the  rock, 
Still  grasping  in  his  hand  the  fire  of  Jove, 
It  does  not  hear  the  cry  nor  heed  the  shock. 
But  hails  the  mariner  with  words  of  love. 

"  '  Sail  on  !'  it  says — *  sail  on,  ye  stately  ships ! 

And  with  your  floating  bridge  the  ocean  span ; 
Be  mine  to  guard  this  light  from  all  eclipse; 
Be  yours  to  bring  man  nearer  unto  man !'  " 


XXXIII. 

ENTEEING  THE  PINE-TEEE  STATE. 

Much  of  the  State  of  Maine  is  covered  with  forests,  and 
cutting  and  floating  the  logs  down  her  great  rivers  and  pre- 
paring their  product  for  market  make  the  livelihood  of 
many  of  her  people.  Crossing  the  Piscataqua  River  from 
Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  we  enter  the  border-town  of 
Kittery,  sacred  to  the  memory  of  her  colonial  chieftain,  Sir 
William  Pepperell.  Here  are  the  remains  of  the  old  Fort 
Pepperell  guarding  the  river-entrance,  which  had  its  quaint 
six-sided  block-house  loopholed  for  musketry.  Here  is  his 
old  mansion,  with  its  gambrel  roof  and  broad  lawn,  whence 
he  had  an  unrivalled  view  over  the  sea  and  the  islands  of 
the  river.  He  was  the  great  man  of  his  day,  his  vast  landed 
estates  stretching  from  the  Piscataqua  eastward  to  the  Saco 


ENTERING  THE  PINE-TEEE  STATE.  239 

River,  and  his  name  is  reproduced  in  these  parts  in  banks, 
mills,  and  hotels,  even  Kittery  Town  having  once  been  called 
Pepperellville.  But  the  train  soon  plunges  into  the  forests, 
plenty  of  pine  trees  adorning  the  land,  with  piles  of  cord- 
wood  cut  for  fuel.  It  glides  among  the  attendant  foot-hills 
of  Mount  Agamenticus,  the  isolated  mountain  standing  by 
the  sea  as  a  sentinel  on  the  outpost  of  Maine.  The  country 
is  sparsely  settled,  and  much  of  its  surface  rough,  with  saw- 
mills in  the  woods  working  up  the  timber  from  the  clear- 
ings. Occasionally  farms  are  passed,  with  grand  hay-fields, 
and  spacious  mansions  seeming  to  have  come  down  in  good 
preservation  from  the  fine  estates  of  the  colonial  times.  The 
railroad  winds  among  the  hills  and  forests,  which  are  bor- 
dered on  the  ocean  front  by  the  famous  beaches  of  the 
Maine  coast.  Here  is  its  place  of  earliest  settlement  in 
1624,  the  quiet  old  town  of  York,  "the  ancient  city  of  Ag- 
amenticus," almost  shadowed  by  that  mountain,  and  once  a 
thriving,  busy  port.  At  the  eastern  end  of  York  Beach, 
Cape  Neddick  is  thrust  out  into  the  sea,  with  the  curious 
rocky  islet  of  the  Nubble  off  its  extremity,  and  a  deep 
channel  between.  There  projects  beyond  the  frowning 
promontory  of  the  Bald  Head  Clifi*  and  its  lofty  Pulpit 
Rock  an  almost  perpendicular  wall  rising  ninety  feet,  with 
the  breakers  beating  at  its  base.  Then  comes  the  town  of 
Wells,  with  more  magnificent  beaches,  having  hard  and  firm 
sands  that  are  fine,  w^hite,  and  sharp,  being  greatly  prized 
by  builders.  The  farmers  haul  these  sands  away  as  bed- 
ding for  cattle  and  also  to  mix  with  too  heavy  soils.  Plenty 
of  seaweed  comes  ashore,  being  used  for  fertilizers,  furnish- 
ing soda,  lime,  and  salt.  Above  the  verge  of  the  sands  the 
pebbles  heap  up  in  long  rows  by  the  action  of  the  waves. 
The  broad  road  furnished  by  these  successive  beaches  is  the 
chief  highway  along  the  coast,  always  kept  in  elegant  repair 
by  old  Neptune.  There  are  occasional  piles  of  shingle,  and 
rocky  ledges  protrude,  while  the  boom  of  the  breaker  and 
the  roar  of  the  sea  are  the  eternal  accompaniment.  . 


240  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

As  the  train  rolls  along  there  comes  a  break  in  the  for- 
est, and  suddenly  through  the  hills  and  woods  flows  down 
the  charming  little  Kennebunk  Kiver,  rushing  aAvay  past 
falls  and  saw-mills  to  its  town  and  the  sea.  Then  we  ap- 
proach the  broader  Saco  River,  with  the  steeples  of  Bidde- 
ford  rising  among  the  trees — one  of  them,  the  French  Cath- 
olic church,  having  two  little  trees,  a  willow  and  a  poplar, 
growing  high  up  out  of  its  spire.  The  Saco  comes  down 
from  the  White  Mountains,  where  it  flows  through  the 
famous  Notch,  and  its  cataracts  give  valuable  power  to 
the  twin  factory-towns  of  Biddeford  and  Saco.  As  the 
train  crosses  the  bridge  there  is  a  good  view  of  both,  with 
the  river  between  them.  Logs  are  rafted  in  the  boom 
spreading  under  the  railroad-bridge,  and  the  locality  is 
redolent  with  the  pungent  odors  of  pine  timber  and  saw- 
dust. All  these  rivers  make  good  harbors  at  their  mouths. 
Beyond  the  Saco  are  more  forests,  with  stretdies  of  salt- 
meadows  spreading  down  to  the  ocean-beaches,  where  the 
ancient  fishing-settlements  are  all  being  converted  into 
fashionable  summer  resorts.  The  beach  fronting  Saco 
dissolves  into  Old  Orchard  Beach,  stretching  nearly  ten 
miles  from  Saco  to  Scarborough  River,  the  finest  beach  in 
New  England,  over  three  hundred  feet  wide,  and  named 
from  an  apple  orchard  that  stood  there,  of  which  the  last 
ancient  tree  died  before  the  Revolution.  Through  more 
forests  and  over  more  salt-meadows  we  go,  crossing  Cape 
Elizabeth,  and  finally  coming  out  of  the  woods  on  the  edge 
of  one  of  Maine's  many  splendid  harbors,  the  magnificent 
Casco  Bay.  The  train  crosses  an  arm  of  the  bay  and  halts 
in  the  new  union  railway-station  on  the  western  edge  of 
Portland,  which  has  been  only  recently  opened — an  artistic 
building  reflecting  credit  on  its  constructors. 

THE   CITY   OF   PORTLAND. 

Portland  is  Maine's  metropolis  and  the  winter  port  of 
Canada,  which  has  to  use  its  harbor  when  the  St.  Lawrence 


THE  CITY  OF  PORTLAND.  241 

is  closed  by  ice.  It  is  built  upon  a  peninsula  about  three 
miles  long,  projecting  eastwardly  into  Casco  Bay.  The 
surface  of  the  peninsula  is  quite  elevated,  and  at  each 
extremity  the  land  rises  into  commanding  eminences,  the 
western  being  Bramhall's  Hill  and  the  eastern  Muujoy's 
Hill.  Around  both  have  been  made  spacious  promenades 
for  outlooks.  The  city  being  almost  surrounded  by  water, 
and  the  bay  having  bold  shores  enclosing  many  beautiful 
islands,  the  magnificence  of  the  views  in  every  direction 
may  be  imagined.  This  chief  city  of  the  Pine-tree  State, 
with  its  streets  elegantly  shaded,  mainly  with  elms,  has  not 
inappropriately  been  called  the  "  Forest  City."  It  was  the 
Indian  land  of  Machigonne,  settled  by  the  English  in  1632. 
There  still  remain  noble  trees  of  that  day,  and  they  are  one 
of  the  charms  of  its  pleasant  park  of  the  Deering  Oaks  at 
the  AVest  End,  from  wdiich  State  Street  leads  into  the  best 
residential  section,  its  double  rows  of  bordering  elms-  mak- 
ing a  grand  overarching  bowser  for  the  highway.  Here  in 
a  circle  at  the  confluence  of  several  leading  streets  is  the 
noble  bronze  statue  of  Longfellow,  who  was  a  native  of 
Portland,  the  poet  sitting  meditatively  in  his  chair.  The 
city  has  an  air  of  comfort,  and  its  broad-fronted,  vine-clad 
homes  look  enticing,  while  the  general  quietness  and  restful 
aspect  betoken  both  wealth  and  content.  Congress  Street, 
passing  lengthwise  along  the  peninsula,  is  the  chief  business 
highway,  having  upon  it  the  city  hall,  while  opposite  is  the 
sign  of  the  "  City  Liquor  Agency,"  a  reminder  of  the  Maine 
liquor  law,  there  not  having  recently  been  a  chance  to  vote 
"  wet "  in  Maine.  But  though  Portland  is  legally  "  dry," 
its  spiritic  humidity  is  not  unlike  that  of  some  other  Amer- 
ican cities.  On  the  day  we  were  there  the  Portland  Press 
announced  "  there  were  thirty-six  arrests  made  last  week, 
twenty-four  of  which  w^ere  for  drunkenness."  It  further 
reported  the  verdict  of  a  coroner's  jury  upon  a  man  killed 
on  a  railway,  declaring  decedent's  injuries  "  were  sustained 
while  in  a  state  of  intoxication,  and  were  due  to  his  own 
16 


242  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR 

carelessness."   Though  legally  "  dry,"  Portland  seemed  just 
then  to  be  practically  quite  "  wet." 

As  we  move  about,  the  charm  of  Portland's  ample  water- 
environment  is  displayed,  for  almost  every  street  discloses 
at  its  end  a  beautiful  vista  view  over  the  bay  to  some  dis- 
tant island  or  pleasant  landscape.  The  eastern  promenade, 
encircling  Munjoy's  Hill,  where  they  are  constructing  a 
new  water-reservoir,  gives  splendid  views  over  the  city  and 
harbor.  The  town  nestles  in  the  depression  between  this 
and  Bramhall's  Hill,  two  miles  westward,  rising  grandly  in 
the  distance  and  surmounted  by  the  Maine  Hospital.  All 
around  there  is  an  outlook  over  Casco  Bay  and  its  arms, 
with  the  many  islands  rising  pretty  and  bold,  with  trees 
fringing  their  rocky  summits.  On  the  eastern  verge  of  the 
bay  Falmouth  Foreside  stretches  down  to  the  distant  ocean, 
while  on  the  western  shore  is  the  broad  peninsula  termi- 
nating in  Cape  Elizabeth,  south  of  the  harbor-entrance. 
In  a  beautiful  spot  on  this  noble  outlook  is  the  monument 
erected  to  the  founder  of  Portland,  bearing  the  inscription, 
"George  Cheeves,  Founder  of  Portland,  1699."  There  are 
wonderful  capabilities  in  developing  this  charming  spot  into 
a  splendid  park  at  small  expense,  for  it  has  a  commanding 
prospect  over  one  of  the  most  bewitching  scenes  in  America 
— this  island-studded  Casco  Bay  with  the  ocean  beyond. 
There  lies,  surmounted  by  the  wide  Ottawa  House,  the 
famous  Cushing  s  Island,  the  outermost  of  the  archipelago, 
guarding  the  entrance  from  the  sea.  Upon  other  islands 
down  the  bay  are  the  three  forts,  two  practically  aban- 
doned, while  the  flag  flying  from  the  more  modern  works 
of  Fort  Preble  shows  that  we  still  have  an  army  even  in 
this  remote  region.  The  tall  white  lighthouse  beyond 
guides  the  mariner  into  the  channel,  while  nearer  to  us  the 
breakwater  stretches  in  front  of  the  inner  harbor,  with  the 
diminutive  beacon-light  on  the  end.  The  arms  of  the  bay 
spread  behind  it  into  the  land,  making  the  harbor  with  its 
branching  creeks,  and  here,  having  ample  room  and  rail- 


THE  SEA-FIGHT.  243 

way  facilities,  the  wharves   and  shipping  are  located  in 
front  of  the  lower  parts  of  the  town. 

THE   SEA-FIGHT. 

On  Munjoy's  Hill  is  the  old  cemetery,  and  here  rest 
alongside  each  other  two  noted  naval  officers  of  the  last 
war  with  England — Burrows  and  Blythe.  They  com- 
manded the  rival  war-ships,  the  American  Enterprise  and 
the  British  Boxer,  that  fought  on  Sunday,  September  5, 
1814,  off  Pemaquid  Point,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Ken- 
nebec, the  adjacent  shores  being  covered  with  spectators. 
The  Enterprise  captured  the  Boxer  and  brought  her  a 
prize  into  Portland  harbor.  Both  commanders  were  killed 
in  the  engagement,  and  their  bodies  were  brought  ashore, 
each  wrapped  in  the  flag  he  had  so  bravely  defended,  and 
the  same  honors  were  paid  to  both  in  the  double  funeral. 
Longfellow  recalls  this  as  a  memory  of  his  youth : 

"  I  remember  the  sea-fight  far  away, 

How  it  thundered  o'er  the  tide, 
And  the  dead  captains  as  they  lay, 
In  their  graves  o'erlooking  the  tranquil  bay 

Where  they  in  battle  died." 

Bramhall's  Hill  has  the  splendid  estate  of  Portland's 
leading  townsman,  some  time  ago  deceased — Brown  of 
sugar-making  fame.  Around  it  is  the  western  promenade, 
overlooking  the  noble  western  view.  As  we  stand  up  here 
the  arm  of  the  bay  known  as  Fore  River  is  at  our  feet, 
with  the  railways  coming  out  of  the  forests  beyond  and 
crossing  it  to  get  into  the  union  station,  which  is  almost 
beneath  us,  while  far  away  are  the  ranges  of  distant  hills 
and  the  hazy  background  of  New  Hampshire,  closed  in  by 
the  cloudlike  outlines  of  the  White  Mountains,  making 
another  view  of  wondrous  beauty.  The  clangor  of  the 
locomotive  bells  and  the  roar  and  rumble  of  the  trains 
come  up  from  below  as  we  gaze  upon  this  unrivalled  land- 


244  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR 

scape.  Thus  both  upon  its  eastern  and  western  borders 
Portland  has  gorgeous  views  well  worth  coming  all  the 
way  from  the  Keystone  State  to  see. 

FROM  PORTLAND  TO  THE  PENOBSCOT. 

From  Casco  Bay  we  journey  across  the  peninsula  to  the 
Androscoggin  River  at  Brunswick  through  a  rolling  wooded 
region,  much  of  it  a  rough  country  liberally  supplied  with 
steep  and  vexatious-looking  hills.  These  must  be  the  de- 
spair of  the  farmers,  yet  they  manage  to  scratch  some  sub- 
sistence out  of  their  fields  that  seem  almost  set  on  end.  As 
Brunswick  is  approached  the  surface  becomes  more  level, 
and  the  twin  spires  of  Bowdoin  College  rise  above  the 
trees  with  a  dense  growth  of  pines  behind  them.  The 
Androscoggin  comes  down  from  Umbagog  Lake  and  the 
White  Mountains  to  tumble  over  the  falls  that  turn  the 
mill-wheels  of  Brunswick,  and  then  it  flows  on  to  unite  its 
waters  with  the  Kennebec  in  Merry  IMeeting  Bay.  Bow- 
doin is  the  chief  college  of  Maine,  chartered  in  the  last 
century,  and  having  had  Hawthorne  and  Longfellow 
among  its  graduates,  the  latter  being  its  professor  of 
modern  languages  before  he  was  called  to  Harvard.  ^Ve 
leave  its  spires  behind,  and  are  soon  approaching  at  Bath 
the  Kennebec,  the  great  river  that  sends  its  prolific  crops 
of  ice  and  timber  throughout  the  world.  The  Kennebec 
flows  out  of  the  largest  lake  in  Maine  (Moosehead),  and, 
descending  a  thousand  feet  in  its  course  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles,  making  valuable  water-power,  it  enters  the 
Atlantic  through  Sheepscott  Bay,  an  irregular  indentation 
of  the  coast  studded  with  many  islands. 

The  town  of  Bath  has  long  been  famed  as  the  great  ship- 
building port  of  Maine.  Here,  more  than  anywhere  in 
New  England,  has  been  the  practical  realization  of  Long- 
fellow's invocation : 

"Bnild  me  straight,  O  worthy  master, 
Staunch  and  strong  a  goodly  vessel 


FKOM  PORTLAND  TO  THE  PENOBSCOT.   245 

That  shall  laugh  at  all  disaster, 

And  with  wave  and  whirlwind  wrestle." 


The  town  has  its  front  border  of  shipyards,  unfortunately 
until  recently  without  much  employment,  their  occupation 
being  curtailed  because  most  of  the  world  seems  to  prefer 
building  its  ocean  tonnage  of  iron  and  steel,  rather  than 
of  wood,  which  is  the  great  Maine  staple.  The  railway- 
train  is  ferried  across  the  noble  Kennebec  to  Woolwich  on 
the  opposite  shore,  giving  a  fine  view  of  Bath  fringed  for 
two  or  three  miles  along  the  western  bank,  while  on  either 
hand  the  rocky  shores  slope  steeply  down  as  the  river  flows 
between.  Again  we  plunge  into  the  forests  to  traverse  the 
peninsula  between  the  Kennebec  and  the  Penobscot,  the 
two  great  rivers  of  Maine,  crossing  various  streams  and 
arms  of  the  sea,  and  j^assing  the  towns  of  Wiscasset,  Dama- 
riscotta,  Waldoboro',  and  Thomaston  to  Rockland.  Dama- 
riscotta  was  named  for  Damarine,  the  old  sachem  of  Saga- 
dahoc, who  was  called  "  Robin  Hood  "  by  the  whites  who 
bought  his  domain  to  make  the  site  of  Bath.  The  route 
crosses  the  Sheepscott  and  St.  George's  Rivers  and  skirts 
the  head  of  Muscongus  Bay,  passing  through  the  counties 
of  Lincoln  and  Knox,  bearing  famous  Revolutionary 
names,  while  Waldo  county  is  to  the  northward.  After 
leaving  the  Kennebec  the  crop  of  rocks  is  even  more  stu- 
pendous, huge  crags  thrusting  out  from  every  hill,  with 
trees  clinging  to  them,  excepting  where  the  surface  refuses 
to  give  either  soil  or  roots  a  foothold.  Yet  these  rocks 
have  their  virtue.  They  make  the  purest  water.  These 
hills  are  foil  of  springs,  feeding  many  pretty  lakes  and 
streams,  and  adding  to  the  beauties  of  the  forest  landscape 
as  we  wind  among  the  hills  and  skirt  the  bays  and  harbors 
on  the  route  eastward  toward  Penobscot  Bay.  Then,  glid- 
ing down  to  the  edge  of  that  great  bay,  we  halt  at  its  flour- 
ishing port  of  Rockland,  on  Owl's  Head  Bay,  looking  out 
upon  the  Penobscot,  with  its  guiding  light  upon  the  point 


246  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR. 

called  the  Owl's  Head.    These  are  more  of  Maine's  famous 
bays  aud  havens,  of  which  Whittier  sings : 

"From  gray  sea-fog,  from  icy  drift, 
From  peril  and  from  pain, 
The  homebound  fisher  greets  thy  lights, 
O  hundred-harbored  Maine !" 


XXXIV. 

THE  RIVEE  OF  NOEUMBEGA. 

We  have  come  to  the  chief  river  of  Maine,  the  Penob- 
scot, draining  the  larger  portion  of  its  enormous  forests  and 
emj^tying  into  the  ocean  through  the  greatest  of  the  many 
bays  that  are  thrust  into  its  rugged  coast.  Three  centuries 
ago  this  was  the  semi-fabulous  river  of  Norumbega,  thus 
named  by  the  Spaniards  and  Portuguese,  who  sent  the 
earliest  explorers  to  these  prolific  fishing-grounds  of  Amer- 
ica. At  that  time  Europe  knew  of  no  stream  that  was  its 
equal,  and  no  bay  with  such  broad  surface  or  such  enor- 
mous tidal  flow.  Hence  many  were  the  tales  and  great  the 
wonder  about  weird  Norumbega,  whence  many  adventurers 
went  to  examine  and  colonize.  The  Penobscot  is  the  most 
extensive  bay  on  the  sea-coast  of  Maine,  which  in  many 
respects  is  the  most  remarkable  coast  in  the  country.  It  is 
jagged  and  uneven,  seamed  with  deep  inlets  and  serrated 
w4th  craggy  headlands  projecting  far  out  into  the  ocean, 
while  between  are  hundreds  of  rocky  and,  in  many  cases, 
romantic  islands.  This  coast  is  composed  almost  entirely 
of  granites  and  sienites  and  other  metamorphic  rocks  that 
have  been  deeply  scraped  and  grooved  ages  ago  by  the 
huge  glaciers,  which,  descending  from  the  north  and  stretch- 
ing many  miles  into  the  sea,  were  of  such  vast  thickness  and 
ponderous  weight  as  to  plough  out  the  immense  valleys 


THE  PENOBSCOT.  247 

and  ravines  in  the  granite  floor.  The  chief  of  these  ridges 
and  furrows  extend  almost  north  and  south,  so  that  the 
shore-line  of  Maine  is  a  series  of  long,  rocky  peninsulas 
separated  by  deep  and  elongated  bays,  within  and  beyond 
them  being  myriads  of  islands  and  sunken  ledges  having 
the  same  general  trend  as  the  mainland.  Thus  the  ]\Iaine 
coast,  w^iile  stretching  in  a  straight  line  two  hundred  and 
seventy-eight  miles  from  Kittery  Point  to  Quoddy  Head, 
has  no  less  than  two  thousand  four  hundred  and  eighty-six 
miles  length  in  the  sinuosities  of  its  shore-line.  There  are 
also  large  rocks  and  boulders  strewn  over  the  land  and 
upon  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  where  they  have  been  left  by 
the  receding  glaciers.  These  fragments  are  piled  in  enor- 
mous quantities  in  various  places,  many  of  the  well-known 
fishing  banks,  such  as  George's  Shoals,  being  these  glacial 
deposits.  These  rocks  and  sunken  ledges  are  covered  with 
marine  animals,  making  the  favorite  food  of  many  of  our 
most  important  food-fishes,  so  that  the  coasts  are  the  resort 
of  many  species  known  as  "  bottom-feeders,"  such  as  the 
cod  and  haddock.  While  the  map  makes  the  Maine  coast 
a  jagged  seaboard  of  stern  headlands  and  green  archipel- 
agoes, yet  it  teems  with  fish  and  has  many  good  harbors, 
while  the  capacious  bays  conduct  rivers  of  great  volume 
to  the  ocean,  bearing  the  product  of  her  forests. 

THE   PENOBSCOT. 

The  greatest  of  these  rivers  is  the  noble  Penobscot,  which 
from  its  sources  to  the  sea  is  about  one  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-five miles  along,  the  two  branches  that  form  it  uniting 
about  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  miles  from  the  mouth. 
Its  embouchure  broadens  out  into  an  enormous  bay  filled 
with  islands,  and  the  wedge  shape  of  the  lower  river,  by 
gathering  such  a  vast  flow  of  waters  which  are  suddenly 
compressed  at  the  Narrows,  just  below  Bucksport,  sixteen 
miles  from  Bangor,  makes  a  rapidly-rushing  tide  and  an  ebb 
and  flow  rising  seventeen  feet  at  Bangor.    Champlain  early 


248  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

entered  this  broad,  deep  bay,  and  Captain  George  Weymouth 
came  in  1605,  setting  up  a  cross  near  where  is  now  the  city 
of  Belfiist,  and  taking  possession  in  the  name  of  England. 
Weymouth  marvelled  greatly  at  what  he  saw,  writing  home 
that  "  many  who  had  been  travellers  in  sundry  countries 
and  in  most  famous  rivers  affirmed  them  not  comparable  to 
this — the  most  beautiful,  rich,  large,  secure  harboring  river 
that  the  world  aflbrdeth."  But  while  its  fame  went  abroad, 
the  English  were  fated  to  make  no  permanent  settlements 
on  the  coast  of  Norumbega,  though  several  colonies  were 
attempted  there  and  elsewhere.  Subsequently  the  French 
got  possession,  and  the  land  adjacent  to  the  Penobscot  and 
beyond  became  the  French  Acadia,  where  have  been  left 
many  French  names  still  existing  to  tell  of  their  occupa- 
tion and  to  recall  the  mortal  enmity  and  many  conflicts 
between  them  and  the  English.  Norumbega  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  was  famous  both  as  a  river  and  a  city,  there 
being  on  its  shores  a  populous  Indian  settlement  of  the  Tar- 
ratines,  one  of  the  tribes  of  the  Abenaqui  nation.  These 
Indians  inhabited  all  of  Maine,  and  were  firm  friends  of 
the  French,  who  early  sent  Jesuit  missionaries  among  them 
from  Canada.  They  called  the  great  river  "  Pentagoet,"  or 
"the  stream  where  there  are  rapids,"  while  its  shores  were 
the  "  Penobscot,"  appropriately  meaning  "  where  the  land 
is  covered  with  rocks."  Both  these  names  clung  to  the 
river,  but  subsequently  the  French  built  Fort  Pentagoet  on 
a  long  narrow  peninsula  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  bay,  so 
that  this  name  was  finally  diverted  to  that  region.  Both 
of  these  are  pure  words  of  the  Abenaqui  tongue,  which  is 
said  to  be  one  of  the  completest  Indian  languages  and  the 
"  aboriginal  Greek  of  America."  As  one  progresses  up  the 
Penobscot  he  finds  plenty  of  this  Indian  Greek,  for  it  re- 
ceives many  tributaries  with  ponderous  names — albeit  they 
are  of  the  purest  dialect — such  as  the  Penduskeag,  Piscata- 
quis, Mattawamkeag,  and  Passadumkeag. 


THE  EED  MEN  OF  THE  EASTEKN  LAND.     249 
THE   EED   MEN   OF   THE   EASTERN   LAND. 

The  Abenaquis,  or  ''  men  of  the  Eastern  Land,"  were 
a  famous  and  warlike  Indian  nation,  their  tribes  extending 
from  the  Merrimac  to  the  St.  John  River,  and  at  one  time 
as  f'dr  west  as  the  Connecticut.  Upon  the  Merrimac  they 
were  known  as  the  Pennacooks,  and  upon  the  Kennebec  as 
the  Canabis,  whence  the  name  of  that  river  is  derived.  Both 
the  Eno-lish  and  the  French  colonists  sought  alliance  with 
them,  but  the  French  priests,  who  had  converted  most  of 
them  to  Christianity,  were  the  more  influential,  and,  be- 
coming close  allies,  they  sided  with  the  French  in  all  the 
colonial  wars.  In  those  days  of  bigotry  and  border  feroci- 
ty, as  might  be  supposed,  the  French  lost  no  opportunity 
of  inflaming  these  savages  against  their  English  enemies. 
Old  Cotton  Mather,  the  quaint  Puritan  preacher  and  early 
historian  I  have  occasionally  quoted,  relates  that  one  of  the 
fiercest  Canabis  chiefs  told  him  that  some  of  the  friars  said 
to  his  people  that  "  the  Blessed  Virgin  was  a  French  lady, 
and  the  English  had  killed  her  son  Jesus."  The  Jesuit 
Father,  Sebastian  Rale,  was  the  most  powerful  missionary 
among  these  Indians — a  priest  and  instructor  who  came 
from  Nismes  in  France,  where  he  had  been  a  teacher  of 
Greek  in  the  university.  He  came  in  1695,  and  lived 
among  them  thirty  years,  making  a  complete  dictionary 
of  their  language  which  is  now  preserved  in  Harvard  Uni- 
versity. He  held  them  always  firmly  to  the  French  alli- 
ance, and  the  English  on  the  border  ascribed  all  their  quar- 
rels with  the  Abenaquis  to  his  influence,  accused  him  of 
instigating  their  raids  upon  the  settlements,  and  finally  set 
a  price  upon  his  head.  His  church  and  village  were  at 
Old  Point  on  the  Kennebec,  above  Norridgewock,  and  for 
twenty  years  expeditions  were  sent  against  him  repeatedly, 
burning  his  church  and  destroying  the  village;  but  he 
always  escaped,  and  the  tribe  was  sure  to  wreak  fearful 
vengeance  upon  the  English  settlements  afterward.      In 


/ 


/ 


250  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

one  of  these  raids  the  English  stole  his  dictionary  and  car- 
ried it  off  to  Boston.  Rale  was  said  to  have  a  superb  con- 
secrated banner,  emblazoned  with  the  cross  and  a  bow  and 
sheaf  of  arrows,  floating  from  a  staff  in  front  of  his  church. 
In  the  border  warfare  this  crusading  standard  was  often 
borne  by  his  tribe  in  their  forays  against  the  Puritans.  In 
the  final  attack  against  Father  Rale,  so  stealthily  did  the 
Puritan  rangers  and  their  Mohawk  allies  surround  the 
Abenaquis  town  in  August,  1724,  that  the  first  knowledge 
its  people  had  was  a  shower  of  bullets  SAveeping  through  it. 
Some  escaped,  but  all  who  were  caught,  men,  women,  and 
children,  were  massacred.  When  Rale  heard  the  tumult 
he  fearlessly  exposed  himself,  hoping  to  draw  the  fire  and 
save  his  flock  with  his  own  life.  The  English  saw  him, 
gave  a  shout  and  a  volley,  and  he  fell  dead,  pierced  by  a 
hundred  bullets.  Seven  chiefs  who  had  endeavored  to 
shield  his  body  fell  beside  him.  When  the  captors  had 
plundered  the  village  and  left,  the  fragment  of  the  tribe 
which  escaped  returned  and  found  Rale's  body  horribly 
mutilated  at  the  foot  of  the  mission  cross.  They  buried 
him  where  the  church  altar  had  stood,  and  within  the 
present  century  a  granite  obelisk  has  been  erected  to 
mark  the  spot. 

THE   NOTED  SETTLEMENT   AT   CASTINE. 

Penobscot  Bay  has  an  even  more  stirring  history.  On 
the  narrow  Pentagoet  peninsula  is  the  famous  town  of 
Castine,  abounding  with  relics  and  scarred  by  the  wars 
caused  by  no  less  than  five  national  occupations.  The 
Plymouth  Company  first  established  here  an  English  trad- 
ing-post. Then  the  French  captured  it,  built  Fort  Penta- 
goet, and  their  Catholic  and  Huguenot  chieftains  quarrelled 
and  alternately  held  possession.  Afterward  the  Dutch  took 
it ;  the  French  recaptured  it ;  the  English  plundered  and 
finally  held  it  during  the  Revolution  and  the  War  of  1812  ; 
and  now  it  peacefully  vegetates  in  wealthy  decadence  as  a 


THE  NOTED  SETTLEMENT  AT  CASTINE.       251 

summer  resort  in  a  remote  part  of  the  United  States.  This 
old  Pentagoet  town  has  its  pleasant  romance,  for  it  was 
named  for  Vincent,  baron  de  St.  Castine,  lord  of  Oleron  in 
the  French  Pyrenees,  who  came  over  with  his  regiment  to 
Canada  and  Acadia  in  1667,  and,  inspired  by  a  chivalrous 
desire  to  spread  the  Catholic  religion  among  the  Indians, 
went  into  the  wilderness  to  live  among  the  fierce  Abena- 
quis.     As  Longfellow  tells  it: 

"  Baron  Castine  of  St.  Castine 
Has  left  his  chateau  in  the  Pyrenees, 
And  sailed  across  the  Western  seas." 

Pentagoet  was  then  a  populous  Indian  town,  ruled  by 
Madockawando,  grand  sachem  of  the  Tarratines,  this  being 
the  famed  city  of  Norumbega  of  which  Europeans  had 
heard  so  much.  The  baron  tarried  there  and  soon  found 
friends  among  the  savages.  As  in  Virginia,  the  sachem 
had  a  susceptible  daughter,  and  the  dusky  Pocahontas  of 
Pentagoet,  captivated  by  the  courtly  graces  of  the  young 
and  handsome  baron,  fell  in  love  with  him : 

"  For  man  is  fire,  and  woman  is  tow. 
And  the  Somebody  comes  and  begins  to  blow." 

The  feeling  was  mutual,  so  that  it  was  not  long  before — 

"  Lo !  the  young  baron  of  St.  Castine, 
Swift  as  the  wind  is,  and  as  wild. 
Has  married  the  dusky  Tarratine — 
Has  married  Madockawaudo's  child !" 

The  sequel  might  be  expected.  This  marriage  made 
him  one  of  the  tribe,  and  he  soon  became  their  leader. 
The  warlike  and  restless  Indians  almost  worshipped  the 
chivalrous  young  Frenchman ;  he  was  their  apostle,  and 
then  became  their  chieftain  and  led  them  in  repeated  raids 
against  their  English  and  Indian  foes.  But  he  ultimately 
tired  of  this  roving  life  in  almost  fabulous  Norumbega,  and 


252  AN  EASTEEN  TOUR.. 

returned  to  "  his  chateau  in  the  Pyrenees,"  taking  his  In- 
dian bride  along.  Then  came  the  wonder  of  his  French 
tenantry : 

"  Down  in  the  village  day  by  day 

The  people  gossip  in  their  way, 

And  stare  to  see  the  baroness  pass 

On  Sunday  morning  to  early  mass; 

And  when  she  kneeleth  down  to  pray. 

They  wonder,  and  whisper  together,  and  say, 
'  Surely  this  is  no  heathen  lass !' 

And  in  course  of  time  they  learn  to  bless 

The  baron  and  the  baroness. 

"  And  in  the  course  of  time  the  curate  learns 
A  secret  so  dreadful  that  by  turns 
He  is  ice  and  fire,  he  freezes  and  burns. 
The  baron  at  confession  hath  said 

That,  though  this  woman  be  his  wife, 
He  hath  wed  her  as  the  Indians  wed — 

He  hath  bought  her  for  a  gun  and  a  knife !" 

Then  there  was  trouble,  but  it  Avas  soon  cured,  for  the 
curate  made  all  things  right  by  a  Christian  wedding: 

"The  choir  is  singing  the  matin  song; 

The  doors  of  the  church  are  opened  wide ; 
The  people  crowd,  and  press,  and  throng 

To  see  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride. 
They  enter  and  pass  along  the  nave ; 
They  stand  upon  the  father's  grave ; 
The  bells  are  ringing  soft  and  slow; 
The  living  above  and  the  dead  below 
Give  their  blessings  on  one  and  twain ; 
The  warm  wind  blows  from  the  hills  of  Spain, 

The  birds  are  building,  the  leaves  are  green, 

And  Baron  Castine  of  St.  Castine 
Hath  come  at  last  to  his  own  again." 

But  this  was  not  all.     The  son  of  the  baron  by  his  Tar- 
ratine  princess  became  the  chief  of  the  tribe,  and  ruled  it 


THE  NOTED  SETTLEMENT  AT  CASTINE.       253 

until,  in  1721,  he  was  captured  by  the  English  and  taken 
prisoner  to  Boston.  He  is  described  as  brave  and  magnan- 
imous, and,  when  taken  before  the  Boston  council  for  trial 
he  wore  his  French  uniform  and  was  accused  of  attendiuGC 
an  Abenaqui  council-fire.  He  sturdily  replied  :  "  I  am  an 
Abenaquis  by  my  mother;  all  my  life  has  been  passed 
among  the  nation  that  has  made  me  chief  and  comman- 
der over  it.  I  could  not  be  absent  from  a  council  where 
the  interests  of  my  brethren  were  to  be  discussed.  The 
dress  I  now  wear  is  one  becoming  my  rank  and  birth  as 
an  officer  of  the  Most  Christian  king  of  France,  my  mas- 
ter." After  being  held  several  months  a  prisoner  he  was 
released,  and  finally  he  too  returned  to  the  ancestral 
estates  in  the  Pyrenees.  Lineal  descendants  of  the  St. 
Castines  still  rule  the  Abenaquis,  but  the  nation  afterward 
dwindled  almost  to  nothingness.  Fort  Pentagoet,  honoring 
these  memories,  became  Castine.  In  and  around  its  harbor 
in  the  many  wars  it  has  seen  have  been  fought  no  less  than 
five  important  naval  battles.  Remains  of  its  fort  and  bat- 
teries are  yet  preserved,  and  a  miniature  earthwork  com- 
mands the  harbor.  All  the  Abenaqui  tribes  were  firm 
allies  of  the  Americans  during  the  Revolution.  There 
are  some  remnants  of  them  in  Canada,  but  the  best  pre- 
served is  the  settlement  of  Penobscot  Indians  on  Indian 
Island  in  the  river  at  Oldtown,  above  Bangor.  For  their 
fealty  during  the  Revolution  they  were  given  an  extensive 
reservation,  where  about  four  hundred  of  them,  receiving  a 
small  revenue  from  the  State,  now  live  in  a  village  around 
their  Catholic  church.  They  have  a  town-hall  and  schools, 
with  books  printed  in  their  own  Abenaqui  tongue.  The 
settlement  maintains  tribal  relations,  being  ruled  by  a  gov- 
ernor, lieutenant-governor,  two  captains,  and  four  council- 
lors. This  remnant  of  a  once  great  and  warlike  nation 
now  gets  a  modest  subsistence  by  catching  fish  and  lobsters 
and  rafting  logs  on  their  native  river  of  Norumbega. 


254  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

XXXV. 

THE  GEEAT  PENOBSCOT  BAY. 

"We  have  come  through  the  forests  to  the  edge  of  Penob- 
scot Bay — one  of  the  crowning  glories  of  "hundred-har- 
bored Maine."  Its  shores  and  islands  bear  many  noble 
trees,  and  its  head-waters  traverse  an  immense  territory 
covered  with  forests  of  pine,  spruce,  and  hemlock.  Two 
hundred  millions  of  feet  of  lumber  will  be  surveyed  at  its 
chief  port  of  Bangor  in  a  single  season.  The  visitor  wan- 
ders in  these  great  woods  and  thinks  of  Longfellow's  lines : 

*'Thi8  is  the  forest  primeval.     The  murmuring  pines  and  the  hem- 
locks, 
Bearded  with  moss,  and  with  garments  green,  indistinct  in  the  twi- 
light, 
Stand  like  Druids  of  old,  with  voices  sad  and  prophetic. 
Stand  like  harpers  hoar,  with  beards  that  rest  on  their  bosoms. 
Loud  from  its  rocky  caverns  the  deep-voiced  neighboring  ocean 
Speaks,  and  in  accents  disconsolate  answers  the  wail  of  the  forest." 

This  magnificent  region  of  wood  and  mountain,  bay  and 
archipelago,  to  which  we  have  come  recalls  many  Revolu- 
tionary memxories.  The  bold  western  shores  of  Penobscot 
Bay  make  the  well-known  Maine  counties  of  Knox  and 
Waldo.  Its  abutting  lands  were  included  in  the  noted 
"Muscongus  Patent"  which  King  George  I.  issued  and 
which  came  to  Governor  Samuel  Waldo.  The  colonists 
were  sturdy  fighters  in  those  days,  and  at  Thomaston, 
through  which  we  have  passed,  on  the  picturesque  St. 
George's  River,  the  English  built  a  fort  early  in  the  last 
century  to  hold  this  crown  grant,  and  the  French  from 
Acadia  must  consequently  attack  it,  the  monks,  it  was 
said,  leading  their  Indian  allies,  the  warlike  Tarratines, 
but  being  successfully  repulsed.  This  extensive  Muscongus 
Patent  embraced  a  tract  thirty  miles  wide  on  each  side  of 
the  Penobscot,  and  General  Waldo,  who  was  colonial  gov- 


AN  EXPLORATION.  255 

ernor  of  Massachusetts,  thus  had  a  princely  domain.  But 
he  died  before  the  Revolution,  and  Waldo  county  and  the 
town  of  Waldoboro'  now  preserve  his  memory.  His  patent 
afterward  came  to  the  noted  Revolutionary  general,  Henry 
Knox,  through  his  wife,  and  thus  Knox  became  the  patroon 
of  Penobscot  Bay,  building  a  palace  at  Thomaston,  where 
he  lived  in  baronial  state,  maintaining  all  the  dignity  and 
ceremonial  of  the  most  aristocratic  court,  and  spending  so 
much  money  in  maintaining  his  princely  scale  of  living 
and  generous  hospitality  that  he  bankrupted  himself  and 
almost  ruined  his  Revolutionary  compatriot.  General  Ben- 
jamin Lincoln,  who  became  involved  with  him.  General 
Knox  was  a  splendid  man,  but  he  was  literally  "  land 
poor,"  although  he  owned  much  of  the  best  part  of  the 
then  province  of  Maine,  which  at  that  time  was  part  of 
the  State  of  Massachusetts.  His  descendants  and  succes- 
sors have  since  divided  up  his  extensive  principality. 

AN   EXPLORATION. 

Upon  part  of  General  Knox's  domain,  the  beautiful 
waters  of  the  magnificent  Penobscot  Bay  and  its  many 
dotted  islands,  whose  rocky  contours  make  the  most  at- 
tractive and  capacious  archipelago  upon  the  Atlantic  coast 
of  the  United  States,  we  look  out  from  the  diminutive  but 
most  picturesque  Owl's  Head  Bay  at  Rockland.  This  town 
of  primitive  development  nestles  behind  the  bold  jutting 
point  of  the  Owl's  Head,  whose  strong  and  steady  light 
and  fog-signal  guide  the  mariner  entering  the  Penobscot. 
It  is  a  town  of  sea-captains,  fishermen,  and  lime-burners. 
Its  rocks  make  the  best  lime  on  these  coasts.  They  are 
quarried  and  burnt  in  kilns  along  the  shore,  where  the 
product  is  put  in  barrels  and  shipped  to  market.  A  hun- 
dred kilns  illuminate  the  hills  at  night,  and  a  million  bar- 
rels will  be  sent  away  in  a  year.  Yet  lime  is  not  the  only 
rocky  product  of  this  region.  The  adjacent  islands  are 
famous  for  their  granites.     Among  them  is  Dix  Island,  a 


256  AN  EASTEKN  TOUR. 

compact  mass  of  granite,  where  the  vessels  load  alongside 
the  ledges  whence  the  blocks  are  cut.  This  granite  built 
our  Philadelphia  Post-office.  Vinalhaven  Island,  down 
the  bay,  produces  the  Bodwell  granite  that  built  the  grand 
new  Army  and  Navy  Department  building  in  Washington. 
Fleets  of  schooners  are  now  bringing  this  Maine  granite 
in  paving-blocks  to  Philadelphia  to  improve  our  streets. 
These  granite  islands  and  the  pleasant  shores  and  pro- 
truding points  of  land  jutting  into  the  bay  at  Rockland 
that  have  such  a  superb  outlook  are  just  beginning  to  feel 
the  presence  of  the  summer  saunterer.  Rustic  cottages  are 
going  up,  and  a  pretty  club-house  out  on  a  promontory 
gives  a  feature  to  the  view  at  Owl's  Head ;  but  these  primi- 
tive people  seem  still  too  much  wedded  to  the  ways  of  their 
forefathers  to  very  extensively  patronize  it.  Salt  fish  and 
a  noontide  dinner  still  prevail  in  these  parts  over  swallow- 
tail coats  and  a  full-course  banquet  in  the  evening. 

From  Rockland  we  begin  an  exploration  of  this  wonder- 
ful bay.  An  ancient  stage-coach  with  four  horses,  which 
might  have  been  patronized  by  General  Knox  himself 
after  sundry  turnings  skilfully  managed  is  judiciously 
packed  by  a  party  of  Quaker  explorers  from  the  city  of 
Penn,  and  starts  up  the  coast.  We  take  a  winding  road 
among  the  cottages  and  bits  of  forest,  giving  splendid  views 
out  over  the  bay.  We  move  north-eastward,  and  the 
towering  and  forest-crowned  Camden  Hills  rise  higher  and 
higher  as  the  stage-coach  approaches  that  little  town.  More 
lime-kilns  are  along  the  shores,  with  their  quarries  inland, 
the  old  coach  rocking  and  rolling  as  we  jolt  by  them  and 
swiftly  slide  down  the  winding  way  that  leads  into  the 
steep  ravine  making  the  miniature  harbor  of  Rockport, 
which  supports  another  colony  of  lime-burners.  The  male 
population  not  thus  employed  are  generally  standing  list- 
lessly about  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  mildly  won- 
dering who  could  have  had  the  audacity  to  thus  rudely  in- 
vade their  sleepy  village.     But  we  climb  laboriously  out 


THE  AECHIPELAGO.  257 

of  the  Rockport  ravine,  admiring  the  gorge  through  which 
the  stream  comes  down  that  has  made  it,  and  soon  reach 
Camden,  with  its  bold  shores  around  the  pleasant  cove  that 
forms  its  harbor,  Avhere  enough  of  Maine's  almost  lost  ship- 
building industry  remains  to  allow  of  the  construction  of 
two  large  vessels  on  the  sloping  bank.  This  town  nestles 
under  the  shadow  of  the  towering  Camden  Hills,  which 
here  make  such  a  gorgeous  background  for  the  western 
edge  of  Penobscot  Bay,  and  round-topped  Megunticook 
Mountain  rises  fourteen  hundred  feet  above  the  Camden 
harbor.  Visitors  sometimes  climb  to  its  top  to  get  the 
grand  view  over  the  broad  blue  bay  and  its  splendid  archi- 
pelago, with  the  ocean  at  its  entrance  and  the  swelling 
peaks  of  Mount  Desert  far  to  the  eastward. 

THE   ARCHIPELAGO. 

At  Camden  our  Quaker  party  is  carefully  unpacked  from 
the  ancient  stage-coach  to  change  from  land  to  water  navi- 
gation. The  road  brings  us  out  high  above  the  waters  of 
the  cove,  so  that  we  carefully  pick  our  way  down  the  steep 
steps  and  wooden  sidewalks  of  the  hilly  streets  of  Camden 
to  get  to  the  water-side,  where  a  pleasant  little  steam-yacht 
awaits  us  at  the  wharf.  Soon  the  party,  not  forgetting  the 
commissariat,  are  upon  the  Barbara,  ready  for  a  sea-voyage. 
She  swiftly  moves  out  of  the  diminutive  harbor,  rocking 
gently  as  the  quick  pulse-beats  of  her  busy  little  engine 
keep  time  with  the  waves.  In  a  few  minutes  she  has  passed 
out  upon  the  broad  bay.  In  front  are  the  bold  forest-clad 
shores  of  the  islands  two  or  three  miles  off,  spread  in  grand 
array  broadly  across  the  view.  Behind  us,  as  the  Barbara 
briskly  paddles  along,  rise  the  noble  Camden  Hills  higher 
and  higher,  the  sloping  shores  in  front  of  them  a  mass  of 
delicious  green,  having  little  villas  peeping  out  among  the 
trees.  We  swiftly  cross  the  rippling  waters  of  the  great 
bay,  getting  a  full  view  of  its  splendid  sweep  from  the 
ocean  for  miles  northward  and  into  the  deeply-indented 
17 


258  AN  EASTEEN  TOUE. 

harbor  of  Belfast,  some  distance  above  Camden.  The 
Owl's  Head  lighthouse  marks  the  limit  of  the  southern 
v.iew,  while  over  opposite  is  another  little  white  light- 
house tower  nestling  among  the  islands,  making  a  land- 
mark toward  which  our  nimble-paced  Barbara  is  head- 
ing. Quickly  crossing  the  bay  and  leaving  its  western 
mountain-backed  shores,  our  active  little  craft  enters  the 
archipelago  and  passes  among  the  pretty  islands  into 
Gilkey's  Harbor,  an  almost  completely  landlocked  sheet 
of  water,  where  the  largest  ships  can  securely  float,  yet 
having  such  thorough  protection  from  the  islands  enclos- 
ing it  that  the  pleasures  of  the  sailing  yacht  and  row-boat 
can  be  enjoyed  in  perfect  security.  One  might  suppose 
this  a  miniature  summer  sea  in  the  famed  Grecian  Archi- 
pelago. The  sail  is  magnificent  over  the  smooth  waters 
bordered  by  the  rocky,  forest-covered  island  shores,  where 
sheep  browse  in  the  clearings,  Avith  an  occasional  old-fash- 
ioned farm-house  on  the  upland.  Our  little  yacht  has 
taken  us  in  past  the  Ensign  Island  and  Job's  Island,  and 
behind  Seven-Hundred-Acre  Island  and  Spruce  Island,  the 
latter  containing  a  mass  of  firs  of  most  gorgeous  develop- 
ment, rivalling  the  noted  groves  of  arbor  vitse  that  have 
been  established  at  enormous  expense  on  Lake  Winder- 
mere in  the  English  Lake  District. 

Soon  we  approach  a  little  w^harf  w^hich  has  just  been 
built  in  a  pleasant  cove  behind  Grindle's  Point  on  Long 
Island,  and  land.  By  recent  purchases  a  large  part  of 
Long  Island  and  some  adjacent  sections  have  become 
Philadelphia  property  for  a  summer  resort.  A  primitive 
farm-house  on  the  sloping  shore  about  a  thousand  feet  from 
the  harbor,  and  elevated  nearly  a  hundred  feet  above  the 
water,  becomes  our  temporary  home.  It  is  a  low-spread- 
ing, comfortable  building,  filling  the  want  so  many  tourists 
long  for.  All  the  rooms  are  front  rooms,  and  the  house  is 
chiefly  first  floor.  From  the  piazza  is  an  unrivalled  view 
in  its  combination  of  land-and- water  loveliness.    The  green- 


THE  IXSULAK  TOWN  OF  ISLESBOEO'.  259 

sward  stretches  down  to  the  water,  with  a  sunken  border 
of  trees  on  either  hand  growing  on  the  banks  of  ravines. 
In  front  is  the  modest  graveyard  of  the  settlement,  with  a 
score  of  white  tombstones  in  a  setting  of  evergreens.  The 
placid  harbor  lies  beyond,  with  yachts  at  anchor  to  give 
point  to  the  scene,  and  the  narrow  and  elongated  projec- 
tion of  Grindle's  Point  enclosing  it,  with  the  white  light- 
house at  the  entrance.  This  entrance  is  both  deep  and  nar- 
row, and  the  world's  biggest  vessels  could  come  safely  in 
and  ride  at  anchor.  Spread  in  front,  as  the  harbor  stretches 
for  two  or  three  miles  to  the  southward,  is  the  archipel- 
ago of  protecting  islands,  with  their  intervening  dividing 
straits  making  other  entrances,  the  whole  enclosing  as  fair 
a  landlocked  harbor  as  one  can  hope  to  see.  Outside  is 
the  broad  Penobscot  Bay  with  its  splendid  western  back- 
ground of  the  Camden  Hills,  their  line  of  rounded  peaks  of 
nearer  green  or  more  distant  blue,  over  which  the  cloud- 
shadows  are  chasing,  stretching  off  toward  Belfast.  The 
islands,  the  hills,  the  smooth  and  pleasant  waters,  are 
reminders  of  the  glories  of  the  archipelago  of  Puget 
Sound,  with  even  more  beauties,  and  having  a  bracing 
summer  air  known  only  to  these  coasts  of  the  Atlantic ; 
yet  this  elysium  is  much  nearer  to  us  than  that  noted 
region  of  the  Pacific  coast,  which  people  gladly  go  thou- 
sands of  miles  to  see. 

THE   INSULAR   TOWN   OF   ISLESBORO'. 

The  "  insular  town  of  Islesboro',''  or  Long  Island  as  the 
natives  call  it,  was  part  of  the  princely  domain  of  General 
Henry  Knox,  and  is  the  gem  of  Penobscot  Bay.  This 
grand  interior  sea  has  dotted  over  its  magnificent  waters 
probably  five  hundred  islands,  which,  with  its  own  enclos- 
ing shores,  present  a  combination  of  more  scenic  beauties 
than  any  other  bay  in  the  entire  range  of  the  Atlantic 
coast.  Islesboro'  is  an  elongated  strip  of  land  in  the  cen- 
tre of  this  charming  bay  stretching  some  thirteen  miles, 


260  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

and  having  on  either  hand  the  mainland  distant  from  two 
to  five  miles,  and  with  much  of  the  intervening  water  sur- 
face varied  by  little  islands.  The  long  strip  of  Islesboro' 
rises  into  highlands  and  is  of  varying  widths,  being  deeply 
indented,  and  in  some  cases  almost  bisected,  by  ravines  and 
fissures,  making  pretty  bays  and  coves  that  are  almost  cir- 
cles, where  the  gentle  waves  flow  in  upon  the  pebbly 
beaches  that  fringe  their  sloping  shores.  Above  rise  bold 
banks  crowned  with  evergreens,  presenting  the  perfect  pas- 
toral landscape  of  water,  field,  and  woodland  giving  such 
a  charm  to  this  portion  of  the  New  England  coast-scenery. 
The  long  and  narrow  island  covers  some  ten  square  miles 
of  irregular  contour,  broadening  or  narrowing  as  the  coves 
and  harbors  may  indent  it,  and  the  surface  rising  in  many 
places  over  a  hundred  feet  into  bold  bluffs.  Its  hills  and 
vales  and  wooded  slopes  give  perfect  views,  while  the  bra- 
cing air,  come  from  what  quarter  it  may,  blows  freely  over 
it,  combining  the  healthful  breezes  of  both  mountain  and 
sea  and  making  a  miniature  paradise. 

As  we  move  about  this  attractive  island  with  such  charm- 
ing surroundings,  in  all  directions  there  are  beautiful  views 
over  the  water  and  over  the  land,  with  pretty  islands,  stretches 
of  glinting  sea,  or  distant  green  or  blue  mountains  to  make 
a  superb  background  for  the  picture.  To  the  westward  the 
bold  range  of  the  Camden  Hills  looks  down  upon  us  beyond 
the  range  of  islands  enclosing  our  little  harbor.  To  the 
eastward  the  eye  has  a  grand  sweep  over  the  bay  and 
around  the  horizon,  with  the  massive  Blue  Hill  standing 
up,  an  isolated  guardian,  behind  the  peninsula  of  Castine 
off  to  the  northward,  the  church-spire  of  this  noted  town 
rising  among  the  trees,  and  the  sun  shining  on  its  pleasant 
white  houses  spreading  over  the  broad  and  sloping  point  of 
land  that  encloses  the  deep  harbor  which  has  so  much  histor- 
ical interest.  All  the  land  and  all  the  water  we  are  looking 
at,  so  peaceful  now,  has  run  red  with  blood  from  the  fiercest 
fierhtinor  of  the  colonial  times.     Scattered  about  this  East 


THE  INSULAK  TOWN  OF  ISLESBOKO'.         261 

Penobscot  Bay  are  many  islands,  with  the  Fox  Island 
group  of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty,  North  Haven  and 
Vinalhaven  to  the  southward,  and  beyond  are  the  shores 
of  Cape  Kosier,  making  the  eastern  border  of  the  bay,  be- 
hind which  rise  the  distant  bisected,  round-topped  peaks  of 
Mount  Desert  thirty  miles  away.  Oif  through  a  vista  among 
the  many  islands  looms  up  the  distant  Isle  au  Haut,  an  outer 
guardian  of  the  group  upon  the  ocean's  edge.  Such  is  the 
splendid  scene  from  Islesboro'  over  the  East  Penobscot  Bay 
as  scores  of  white-winged  yachts,  standing  over  with  the 
strength  of  the  fresh  north-western  breeze,  are  threading 
the  many  passages  among  these  pleasant  islands  and  dan- 
cing over  the  sparkling  waves  e)i  route  to  Mount  Desert. 
Everywhere  growing  upon  this  charming  island  of  Isles- 
boro' are  groups  of  gorgeous  Christmas  trees — millions  of 
them,  big  and  little — the  stately  and  symmetrical  firs  of 
this  country,  which  people  of  our  own  region  would  give 
much  to  possess.  They  are  beautiful  beyond  description  in 
their  native  glory  upon  these  rocky  hills.  Acres  of  ferns 
of  many  splendid  forms  and  most  delicate  texture  grow  in 
shaded  nooks.  The  primitive  people  of  the  island  live  in 
neat  houses  with  broad  fronts  painted  white,  and  the  men 
are  all  sea-captains,  their  front  doors  oj^ening  upon  steep 
stairways  rising  almost  straight  up,  like  a  ship's  compan- 
ion-ladder, to  the  upper  floors.  Shells  and  sea-urchins  are 
found  upon  the  pebbly  beaches,  and  fish-hawks  circle  about 
and  scream  above  our  heads.  Scattered  over  the  island  are 
the  little  white-tombed  graveyards  where  rest  the  forefathers 
of  the  place,  whose  descendants  live  to-day  exactly  as  they 
did  a  century  ago.  The  first  sound  of  summer  fashion 
knocking  for  entrance  upon  one  of  the  fairest  scenes  in 
Nature  has  just  awakened  them  to  a  realization  that  the 
world  has  moved. 


262  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

XXXVI. 

THE    END. 

Standing  upon  the  high  land  of  Islesboro^  just  above 
the  bewitching  little  fir-embowered  cove  of  Dark  Harbor, 
we  watch  the  fleet-winged  yachts,  their  white  sails  bulging 
before  the  stiff  north-western  breeze  as  they  glide  across  the 
magnificent  expanse  of  the  East  Penobscot  Bay.  They 
have  come  out  from  behind  the  Owl's  Head,  and  scores  of 
them  are  moving  over  the  white-capped  waves,  whose  foam- 
ing tops  have  been  whisked  off"  by  the  brisk  wind,  seeking 
a  passage  through  the  mazy  thoroughfares  among  the  many 
islands  toward  Mount  Desert.  As  we  survey  this  splendid 
view  there  is  a  noble  background  for  our  picture,  seen  thirty 
miles  away  across  Little  Deer  Island  and  the  mainland  of 
Cape  Rosier,  the  two  distant  blue  mountains  nestling  on  the 
edge  of  the  horizon  like  a  recumbent  elephant,  and  mark- 
ing that  noted  island  which  has  recently  captured  so  many 
Philadelphians.  The  yachts  dance  over  the  waves  as  they 
go  through  the  complex  labyrinth  of  passages  in  the  attract- 
ive archipelago  between  Penobscot  and  Frenchman's  Bays. 
They  thread  the  reaches,  and,  rounding  Blue  Hill  Bay,  soon 
come  in  full  view  of  the  island  beyond,  which  presents  the 
only  land  along  our  Atlantic  coasts  where  high  mountains 
stand  in  the  close  neighborhood  of  the  sea.  It  appears  to- 
day just  as  it  did  to  the  early  explorer,  Champlain,  when 
he  first  found  it  in  September,  1604,  and,  being  impressed 
with  its  desolate  and  craggy  summits,  appropriately  named 
it  the  "Isle  des  Monts  deserts" — the  "Island  of  Desert 
Mountains."  He  then  wrote  of  it:  "The  land  is  very 
high,  intersected  by  passes,  appearing  from  the  sea  like 
seven  or  eight  mountains  ranged  near  each  other;  the 
summits  of  the  greater  part  of  these  are  bare  of  trees, 
because  they  are  nothing  but  rocks."  As  the  yachts  have 
skimmed  over  the  water  in  their  zigzag  approach  through 


THE  APPEAEANCE  OF  MOUNT  DESEET.       263 

the  galaxy  of  attendant  islands,  the  recumbent  elephant  of 
Mount  Desert  has  resolved  its  two  rounded  summits  into 
difierent  peaks,  and  the  fact  is  realized  that  this  remark- 
able island,  being  so  near  the  mainland  that  the  narrow 
strait  between  them  is  bridged,  is  at  the  same  time  a  pon- 
derous mass  of  mountains,  entirely  overshadowing  the  lower 
surface  of  the  adjacent  shores. 

THE  APPEARANCE   OF   MOUNT   DESEET. 

In  approaching  overland  from  the  northward  by  the  rail- 
way-route to  Mount  Desert,  which  is  most  travelled,  it  is 
curious  to  watch  how  the  gradually  diminishing  distance 
unfolds  the  separate  mountain-peaks  of  the  island.  The 
whole  range  is  finally  displayed,  there  being  apparently 
eight  eminences,  but  upon  coming  nearer  others  seem  to 
detach  themselves  that  had  at  first  blended  with  those 
higher  and  more  distant.  Green  Mountain  is  the  highest 
of  them,  rising  over  seventeen  hundred  feet,  while  Western 
Mountain  terminates  the  range  on  the  right-hand  side,  and 
at  the  eastern  verge  is  Newport  Mountain,  having  the  fash- 
ionable settlement  of  Bar  Harbor  at  its  base.  High  up 
among  these  peaks  there  are  several  beautiful  lakes,  the 
chief  beino;  Eagle  Lake.  Beech  and  Doo;  Mountains  have 
peculiarities  of  outline,  while  a  wider  opening  between  two 
pronounced  peaks  shows  where  the  sea  has  driven  in  the 
strange  and  deeply-carved  inlet  of  Somes  Sound  from  the 
southern  side  to  almost  bisect  the  island.  Forest  fires  have 
repeatedly  overrun  all  these  mountains,  but  a  new  growth 
of  young  trees  is  coming  on.  There  are  thirteen  eminences 
altogether,  and  the  eastern  summits  on  the  Frenchman's 
Bay  side  are  the  highest,  terminating  generally  at  or  near 
the  water's  edge  in  precipitous  cliffs  with  waves  dashing 
against  their  bases.  Upon  the  south-eastern  coast,  as  a 
fitting  termination  to  the  grand  scenery  of  these  mountain- 
ranges,  the  border  is  a  galaxy  of  stupendous  cliffs,  the  two 
most  remarkable  being  of  world-wide  fame — Schooner  Head 


264  AN  EASTEEN  TOUE. 

and  Great  Head — having  the  full  force  of  Old  Ocean  com- 
ing thousands  of  miles  across  the  broad  Atlantic  and  driving 
the  powerful  breakers  against  their  massive  rocky  buttresses. 
Schooner  Head  has  a  surface  of  white  rock  on  its  face  that 
is  fancied  to  resemble  a  small  schooner  when  seen  from  the 
sea,  apparently  sailing  in  front  of  the  giant  cliffs.  Great 
Head,  two  miles  southward,  is  an  abrupt  projecting  mass 
of  rock,  its  bold  and  grim  front  having  deep  gashes  across 
the  base,  evidently  worn  by  the  waves.  This  is  the  highest 
headland  on  the  island.  Castle  Head  is  a  perpendicular 
columned  mass,  appearing  like  a  colossal  castellated  door- 
way flanked  by  square  towers. 

During  more  than  a  century  after  Champlain  first  looked 
at  this  Desert  Island  repeated  but  ineffectual  attempts  at 
settlement  were  made,  but  it  Avas  not  until  1761  that  any 
one  succeeded  in  making  a  permanent  home  here.  In  that 
year  old  Abraham  Somes,  a  hardy  pioneer  from  Gloucester 
on  Cape  Ann,  came  along,  and,  entering  the  sound  that 
bears  his  name,  squatted  on  its  inner  shore  and  became  the 
founder  of  a  settlement.  He  came  to  stay,  and  his  descend- 
ant still  keeps  the  village  inn  at  Somesville  on  the  very  spot 
of  his  earliest  colonization.  Thus  the  indomitable  spirit  of 
the  Yankee  colonist  triumphed  where  both  the  French  and 
English  had  previously  repeatedly  failed.  Judicious  culti- 
vation of  the  cranberry  and  the  gathering  of  prolific  crops 
of  blueberries  kept  the  people  alive  on  these  rocks  after 
Abraham  had  planted  the  colony.  These  are  almost  the 
only  food-products  of  the  moderate  allowance  of  soil  Nature 
has  vouchsafed  to  Mount  Desert.  When  population  in- 
creased, about  a  century  ago  the  island  was  divided  into 
towns,  the  eastern  portion  being  named,  with  sublime  Yan- 
kee irony,  Eden.  The  village  of  East  Eden,  on  the  edge 
of  Bar  Harbor,  is  to-day  the  fiishionable  resort.  It  has  a 
charming  outlook  over  the  bay  and  its  fleets  of  gayly-ban- 
nered  yachts  and  light  canoes  and  the  enclosing  Porcupine 
Islands,  but  the  village  itself  is  without  a  single  feature  of 


THE  FOGS  AND  THE  AQUATICS.  265 

beauty.  It  is  a  wooden  town  of  summer  boarding-houses 
and  hotels  built  upon  what  was  a  treeless  plain,  the  out- 
skirts being  a  galaxy  of  cottages,  many  of  pretension, 
where  the  decree  of  fashion  has  pushed  up  the  value  of 
land  to  fabulous  prices.  But  the  combination  of  sea  and 
mountain-air,  the  admirable  harbor,  and  the  general  con- 
centration of  wealth  and  "  social  status "  have  made  Bar 
Harbor  and  its  Eden  village  one  of  the  most  famous  re- 
sorts of  the  Atlantic  coast. 


THE   FOGS   AND   THE   AQUATICS. 

The  bane  of  Mount  Desert  Island  is  the  fog.  It  comes 
quickly,  envelops  everything,  and  is  frequent  in  summer, 
seriously  interfering  with  tourists'  pleasures.  Sometimes, 
during  days  in  succession,  mountains  and  sea  are  wrapped 
in  impenetrable  mist.  Here  is  the  place  where  Neptune 
during  last  summer  brewed  most  of  those  fog-banks  that 
the  east  winds  carried  away  to  dissolve  in  daily  deluge  upon 
Philadelphia.  But  even  fog,  in  its  place  of  nativity,  has 
charms.  There  are  days  when  it  lies  in  banks  upon  the 
sea,  with  only  occasional  incursions  upon  the  shore,  when 
under  a  shining  sun  the  mist  creeps  over  the  water,  swiftly 
ascends  the  mountain-side,  then,  one  by  one,  envelops  the 
adjacent  islands,  and  finally  blots  out  the  whole  landscape. 
But  light  breezes  and  warm  sunshine  soon  disperse  the  mist, 
the  mountains  pierce  the  veil,  the  islands  reappear,  and  once 
more  bright  sunshine  gilds  the  splendid  scene.  The  fog- 
rifts  are  wonderful  picture-makers.  Sometimes  the  mist 
obscures  the  sea  and  lower  shores  of  the  islands,  leaving 
a  long  and  narrow  fringe  of  treetops  resting  against  the 
horizon  as  if  suspended  in  mid-air.  Often  a  yacht  sails 
through  the  fog  looking  like  a  colossal  ghost,  when  sud- 
denly its  sails  flash  out  in  the  sunlight  like  huge  wings. 
Thus  the  mist  paints  dissolving  views,  so  that  the  Mount 
Desert  fogs  are  not  the  least  attraction.     Sometimes  there 


266  AN  EASTEEN  TOUK. 

comes  through  it  the  famed  mirage,  which  Whittier  de- 
scribes : 

"Sometimes  in  calms  of  closing  day 
They  watched  the  spectral  mirage  play ; 
Saw  low,  far  islands  looming  tall  and  high, 
And  ships,  with  upturned  keels,  sail  like  a  sea  the  sky." 

When  the  fog  lifts  there  can  be  seen  the  attendant  islands. 
Off  the  entrance  to  Somes  Sound  are  the  Cranberry  Islands 
with  some  others,  making  a  picturesque  outlook  for  the  set- 
tlements at  North-east  Harbor  and  South-west  Harbor  at 
the  entrance  to  the  sound.  The  lighthouse  stands  on 
Baker's  Island,  the  outermost  of  the  cluster.  Off  the 
eastern  shore,  in  Frenchman's  Bay,  are  the  five  high 
rocky  islands  called  the  Porcupines,  which  form  the  chief 
attraction  in  the  view  from  the  Bar  Harbor  settlement. 
These  islands  enclose  the  waters  of  Bar  Harbor,  the  near- 
est of  them.  Bar  Island,  being  connected  with  Mount  Des- 
ert at  low  ebb  tide,  and  thus  naming  the  harbor.  They 
bristle  with  crested  pines  and  cedars,  and  hence  their  name, 
Bald  Porcupine  also  having  some  stupendous  cliffs.  It  is 
within  this  pleasant  bay  that  the  yachts  cluster,  and  its 
waters  are  covered  with  boats  of  all  kinds,  aquatic  sports 
being  the  chief  amusement.  Here  flourishes  the  modern 
craze  for  "  canoeing,"  which  has  of  late  become  so  fashion- 
able among  the  land-folk,  who  suddenly  become  full-fledged 
amateur  sailors  at  the  seaside.  Many  canoes  ride  on  the 
water — the  light,  frail,  dancing,  dangerous  canoes  that  are 
so  likely  to  give  their  unskilled  occupants  an  unexpected 
ducking,  if  not  worse. 

THE   GREEN    MOUNTAIN   VIEW. 

The  picturesque  at  Mount  Desert  is  divided  in  interest 
between  the  cliffs  and  the  mountain-views.  A  journey  of 
four  miles  takes  the  visitor  from  Bar  Harbor  to  the  summit 
of  Green  Mountain,  there  being  an  inclined-plane  railway 


THE  GEEEN  MOUNTAIN  VIEW.  267 

up  the  mountain-side.  The  sides  of  this,  as  of  all  the 
eminences,  are  precipitous  and  savagely  rugged,  a  tangled 
forest  growth  covering  the  lower  portions,  while  the  tops 
are  bare  and  riven  rocks.  The  beautiful  Eagle  Lake  adds 
a  charm  to  the  ascent,  and  when  the  mountain-top  is 
reached  and  the  fog  permits  there  is  a  grand  view  over 
hill  and  vale  and  lake,  with  the  deeply-cut  Somes  Sound 
penetrating  almost  through  the  island,  w'hose  contour  is 
set  out  like  a  map.  Behind  us  is  the  grand  stretch  of  the 
Maine  coast,  seen  with  its  bays,  islands,  and  headlands 
extending  from  Penobscot  to  Passamaquoddy.  Eagle  Lake 
nestles  among  the  mountain-peaks,  and  from  almost  along- 
side it  comes  up  the  railway  that  eases  the  traveller's  ascent. 
There  is  also  a  carriage-road  coming  up,  which  was  ruined 
by  dynamite  blasts  to  prevent  competition  a  few  weeks  ago. 
In  front  of  us  spreads  the  open  sea,  limited  only  by  the 
horizon,  and  like  a  speck,  seen  twenty  miles  away,  is  the 
lighthouse  upon  the  bleak  crags  of  Mount  Desert  rock, 
the  most  remote  beacon  in  its  distant  isolation  upon  the 
coast  of  New  England. 

And  here  I  close  this  pleasant  story.  Daring  the  sum- 
mer we  have  been  exploring  some  of  the  most  interesting 
portions  of  our  country.  We  crossed  New  Jersey  from  the 
Delaware  River  to  the  metropolis  of  New  York,  and  viewed 
its  active  city-life,  wonderfiil  development,  and  attractive 
surroundings,  its  noble  harbor,  its  parks  and  pleasure  resorts, 
and  some  of  its  suburban  attractions.  Then  we  entered  New 
England,  admired  its  splendid  scenery  and  its  arching  elms, 
visited  its  great  hives  of  industry,  its  busy  marts  of  manu- 
facture and  trade,  traversed  its  coasts,  scanned  its  fisheries, 
and,  with  a  keen  appreciation  of  its  sterility  and  forbidding 
surface,  saw  the  beginnings  and  studied  the  early  history  of 
the  pushing,  energetic,  and  indomitable  Yankee  race.  Then, 
plunging  into  the  forests  of  Maine,  we  have  recognized  an- 
other wonderful  development,  and  enjoyed  the  beauties  of 


268  AN  EASTERN  TOUR. 

its  unrivalled  hays,  islands,  and  archipelagoes,  finally  halt- 
ing on  its  rock-bound  shores.  And  yet  at  no  time  have  we 
been  distant  more  than  twenty-four  hours'  railway  ride  from 
Philadelphia.  Beyond  us,  farther  eastward,  there  is  yet  a 
little  more  of  Maine,  but  not  much  that  is  novel — more 
islands,  more  rocks  and  forests,  more  fishery-villages  and 
pleasant  sea-expanses,  until,  finally,  the  serrated  coast  of 
the  grand  old  "  Pine-tree  State  "  ends  with  Quoddy  Head 
and  its  red-and-white  striped  lighthouse  tower  just  at  the 
national  boundary,  which  marks  the  limit  of  New  England 
and  the  entrance  to  the  dividing  St.  Croix  River  and  East- 
port.  These  wanderings  have  been  instructive,  and  it  is 
hoped  their  recital  has  been  profitable  to  the  reader.  Some- 
where I  have  heard  a  definition  of  the  noun  "tramp,"  which 
has  recently  been  incorporated  into  our  American  language, 
that  indicates  a  twofold  form  of  that  individual.  One  is  the 
vagabond  who  scares  the  womenfolk  in  the  rural  districts 
into  giving  him  undeserved  food — a  distressful,  homeless, 
aimless  wanderer.  The  other  is  the  more  prosperous  fellow, 
who  has  a  home,  but  don't  want  to  stay  there,  and  goes 
rambling  over  the  face  of  the  earth  in  quest  of  novelty. 
Possibly  our  tramp  of  this  summer  may  have  created  in 
the  home-stayer  who  has  read  its  history  something  of  the 
enjoyment  given  in  making  the  record,  and  it  may  have 
also  produced  new  thoughts  and  aspirations  to  enhance 
future  pleasures. 

Reluctantly  bidding  farewell  to  the  rock-bound  coasts 
of  Maine,  our  Eastern  Tour  is  ended. 

"Still  they  must  pass  !  the  swift  tide  flows, 
Thougli  not  for  all  the  laurel  grows. 
Perchance  in  this  beslanderecl  age 
The  worker,  mainly,  wins  his  wage  ; 
And  time  will  sweep  both  friends  and  foes 
When  Finis  comes  I" 


INDEX. 


Abbott  Street,  Providence,  162. 

Abenaqui  Indians,  248-253. 

Academy  of  Music,  N.  Y.,  31. 

Acadia,  248,  251,  254. 

Acuslinet,  Mass.,  176. 

Adams  family,  175. 

Adams,  Fort,  Newport,  1G5. 

Adams,  Mass.,  139. 

Adams,  President,  165. 

Adams,  Samuel,  195,  198. 

Adams  Temple,  Quincy,  175. 

Agamenticus,  city.  Me.,  239. 

Agamenticus,  Mount,  229,  236,  239. 

Agawam,  Mass.,  127,  225. 

Agawam  River,  150. 

Albany,  N.  Y.,  149. 

Albemarle  Hotel.  N.  Y.,  36. 

Albion,  Pt.  I.,  155. 

Alden,  John,  178. 

Aldermen,  Board  of,  N.  Y.,  25,  32. 

Algerines,  226. 

Allen  &  Ticknor,  Boston,  199. 

Am  boy,  N.  J.,  9. 

America,  statue,  Boston,  193. 

American  Bible  Society,  29. 

American  Cotton  Docli  Co.,  95. 

American  Derby  race,  74. 

Ames,  Fisher,  174. 

Ames,  Oakes,  174. 

Ames,  Oliver,  174. 

Amsterdam,  New,  13, 14. 

Andover  Hill,  224. 

Andover,  Mass.,  224. 

Andover  Seminary,  224. 

Andrew,  Governor,  146. 

Andros,  Governor,  123. 

Androscoggin  River,  244. 

Ann,  Cape,  176,  209,  215-223,  229, 

236. 
Anne  Hook,  104. 
Anneke  Jans,  15. 
Annexed  District,  N.  Y.,  98-105. 
Anthony,  Susan  B.,  139. 


Apartment  houses,  N.  Y.,  49. 
Apple  Island,  Boston,  190. 
Appledore,  Isles  of  Shoals,  232,  234, 

236. 
Aquahonga,  91. 

Aquidneck  Island,  163,  165-172. 
Arbor  vitse  groves,  258. 
Archipelago,  Casco  Bay,  242. 
Archipelago,   Penobscot  Bay,   257- 

262. 
Arlington  Street,  Boston,  204. 
Armory  Hill,  Springfield,  128. 
Armory,  Springfield,  128,  129. 
Arnold,  Benedict,  19. 
Arnold,  Constable  &  Co.,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Arrocher,  Staten  Island,  95. 
Arsenal,  N.  Y.,  40. 
Arthur  Kill,  92,  97. 
Artisan's  Gate,  22. 
Artist's  Gate,  22, 
Ashbourne,  Pa.,  7. 
Ashton,  R.  I.,  155. 
Assay  office,  N.  Y.,  17. 
Astor,  John  Jacob,  37. 
Astor,  William,  37. 
Astor,  William  B.,  16,  38. 
Astor,  William  Waldorf,  37,  49. 
Astor  House,  N.  Y.,  24. 
Astor  Library,  N.  Y.,  28,  37. 
Astor  Place,  N.  Y.,  28,  29. 
Astor    Place    Opera-House,   N.   Y., 

28. 
Astor,  reredos,  16. 
Atheneum,  Providence,  161. 
Atlantic  Avenue,  Boston,  201. 
Atlantic  Dock,  Brooklyn,  63. 
Autumn  foliage,  142. 

Back  Bay,  Boston,  190,  203,  204. 

Baked  beans,  76. 

Baker's  Island,  Mount  Desert,  266. 

Balanced  boulder,  103. 

Bald  Head  Cliif,  Cape  Neddick,  239. 

269 


270 


INDEX. 


Bald  Porcupine,  Mount  Desert,  266. 

Baltimore  and  Ohio  R.  R.,  01,  93,  97. 

Bancroft,  George,  153. 

Bangor,  Me.,  247,  253,  254. 

Baptist  Tabernacle,  N.  Y,,  29. 

Bar  Harbor,  Me.,  263,  264,  265,  266. 

Bar  Island,  Mount  Desert,  266. 

Barbara,  yacht,  ,257. 

Barge  oflice,  N.  Y.,  20. 

Barnum,  P.  T.,  111. 

Bath,  Me.,  244,  245. 

Battery,  N.  Y.,  19,  56. 

Battery  Park,  N.  Y.,  11,  16,  20,  86, 

95. 
Bay  State,  126,  149.  176. 
Bayonne,  N.  J.,  10,  92,  96. 
Beach,  Tent  ou  the,  226. 
Beacon  Hill,  Boston,  187,  191,  194. 
Beacon  Street,  Boston,  192,  194,  204. 
Bear  Mountain,  146. 
Bedford  Street,  Boston,  201. 
Bedloe's  Island,  10,  63. 
Beech  Mountain,  Mount  Desert,  263. 
Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  66,  112,  141, 

142. 
Beecher,  Lyman,  66. 
Beer-brewery,  Portsmouth,  227. 
Belchertown,  Mass.,  152. 
Belfast,  Me.,  248,  259. 
Belfast  harbor.  Me.,  258. 
Bellevue  Avenue,  Newport,  166, 171. 
Bellevue  Hospital,  N.  Y.,  58. 
Belmont,  August,  35,  74. 
Belvidere,  Central  Park.  51. 
Benefit  Street,  Providence,  160,  161. 
Benevolent  Street,  Providence,  160. 
Bennett,  James  Gordon,  41. 
Bennington,  Vt.,  229. 
Bergen  Hill,  N.  J..  10,  12,  96. 
Bergen  Point.  N.  J.,  10,  92,  96. 
Berkeley  and  Carteret,  92. 
Berkeley,  Dean,  170. 
Berkeley  Street,  Boston,  204. 
Berkshire  county,  Mass.,  138-150, 
Berkshire    Hills,    Mass.,    127,    135, 

138-150. 
Berlin,  Conn.,  117. 
Berry  Pond,  141. 
Beverly  Beach,  Mass.,  224. 
Beverly,  Mass.,  218,  221,  224. 
Bible  House.  N.  Y.,  29. 
Biddeford.  Me.,  240. 
Billings,  Josh.  139. 
Bbckioeard,  pirate,  236. 
Blackstone,  R.  I.,  154. 
Blackatone  River,  152-157. 


Blackstone,  William,  153,  169,  187. 

Blackweli's  Island,  56,  58. 

Blessing  of  the  Bay,  bark,  188. 

Blind,  New  York  Institution  for,  40. 

Block,  Adraien,  118. 

Block  Island,  119,  163. 

Bloomingdale  Road,  N.  Y.,  25. 

Blue  Hill,  Me,  260. 

Blue  Hill  Bay,  Me.,  262. 

Blue  Hills  of  Milton,  175,  207. 

Blue  Hills  of  Southington,  115,  117. 

Blue  Laws,  Connecticut,  123,  126. 

Blue  Noses,  224. 

Blueberries,  264. 

Blythe,  Lieutenant,  243. 

Board  of  Aldermen,  N.  Y.,  25,  32. 

Bodwell  granite,  256. 

Bond  Street,  N.  Y.,  27. 

Bonner,  Robert,  48. 

Boodle  aldermen,  N.  Y.,  32. 

Booksellers,  N.  Y.,  28. 

Boon  Island,  237. 

Boon  Island  Light,  237. 

Booth,  Edwin,  31. 

Boston,  187-209,  215,  219. 

Boston  and  Albany  R.  R.,  140,  149. 

Boston  Back  Bay,  203,  204. 

Boston  City  Hall,  196. 

Boston  Common,  188,  191-194. 

Boston  Fire,  192,  198,  200,  203. 

Boston  Frog  Pond,  193. 

Boston  Harbor,  187,  188,  210. 

Boston  Light,  189,  210. 

Boston  massacre,  198. 

Boston  Navy-yard,  206,  211. 

Boston  PoKt,  197. 

Boston  Public  Garden,  192,  193. 

Boston  Public  Library,  202. 

Boston,  South  End,  197. 

Boston  State-House,  191,  192,  194, 

195. 
Boston,  West  End,  197,  203. 
Bostonian  society,  198. 
Bostwick,  warehouseman,  95. 
Boulevards,  N.  Y.,  52. 
Bound  Brook,  9. 
Bound  Brook  Route,  7. 
Bowditch,  Nathaniel,  220. 
Bowdoin  College,  Brunswick,  244. 
Bowerie  estate.  N.  Y.,  29. 
Bowerv,  N.  Y..  24,  30,  56. 
Bowling  Greon,  N.  Y.,  19,  22. 
Boxer  and  Enterprise,  243. 
Boylston    Street,  Boston,   192,  197, 

204. 
Bradford,  Governor,  177,  182,  186. 


INDEX. 


271 


Bradford,  William,  17. 

Bramliall's  Hill,  Portland,  241,  242, 

243. 
Breezy  Corner,  Lenox,  144. 
Brenton's  Point,  R.  I.,  165. 
Brewer  Fountain,  Boston,  193. 
Brick  Church,  N.  Y.,  41. 
Brickmaking,  116. 
Bridgeport.  Conn.,  111. 
Brighton  Beach,  Coney  Island,  75, 

7y. 

Brighton  Hotel,  Coney  Island,  80. 
Brighton,  Mass.,  190,  205. 
Brimstone  Corner,  Boston,  195. 
Bristol,  R.  I.,  158. 
Broad  Street,  N.  Y.,  17. 
Broadway,  N.  Y.,  11,  15,  21-34,  56, 

63,  87. 
Broadway  railway,  N.  Y.,  32. 
Bronx  Park,  N.  Y.,  101,  105. 
Bronx  River,  21,  102,  105. 
Brook,  Rev.  John,  235. 
Brooke,  Lord.  119. 
Brooklield,  Mass.,  151. 
Brookline,  Mass.,  190,  204,  205. 
Brooklyn,  10,  21,  60,  64-71,  84. 
Brooklyn  Bridge,  10,  24,  56,  60-64, 

87,  88,  95. 
Brooklyn  Heights,  61,  63,  65,  66. 
Brooklyn  Navy-yard,  62. 
Brooks,  Phillips,  193. 
Broome  Street,  N.  Y.,  26. 
Brother  Jonathan,  108. 
Brown  &  Ives,  161. 
Brown,  Bros.  &  Co.,  17. 
Brown,  Moses,  157. 
Brown  of  Portland,  243. 
Brown,  Rev.  Arthur,  230. 
Brown  University,  Providence,  161. 
Brownstone  buildings,  N.  Y.,  35,  40. 
Brunswick  Hotel,  N.  Y.,  36. 
Brunswick,  Me.,  244. 
Bryani.  William  Cullen,  23,  141. 
Bryant  Park,  N.  Y.,  43. 
Biickland,  Mass.,  137. 
Bucksport,  Me.,  247. 
Bucksport  Narrows.  247. 
Bunker  Hill,  Boston,  205,  206. 
Bunker  Hill   Monument,   172,  206, 

211. 
Burial  Hill,  Plymouth,  184,  185. 
Burnside,  General,  161. 
Burr-Hamilton  duel,  12. 
Burrows,  Lieutenant,  243. 
Buttermilk  Channel,  N.  Y.,  63,  65, 


Buzzard's  Bay,  176. 
Byram  River,  106. 

Caisson  imskase,  61. 
Cambridge.  Mass.,  190,  207. 
Camden,  Me.,  256,  257. 
Camden  and  Amboy  R.  R.,  12. 
Camden    Hills,   Me.,  256,  257,  259, 

260. 
Canabis  Indians,  249. 
Canal  Street,  X.  Y.,  27. 
Cauda,  Charlotte,  tomb.  Greenwood, 

69. 
Cannibals,  237. 
Canoeing,  266. 
Canonchet  Island,  158. 
Canonicus,  186. 
Canonicus  Island,  158. 
Cape  Ann,  Mass.,  176,  209,215-223, 

229.  236. 
Cape  Ann  Lights,  223,  237. 
Cape  Cod,  Mass.,  176,  186. 
Cape  Cod  Bay,  176,  180. 
Cape  Elizabeth,  Me.,  210,  242. 
Cape  Neddick,  Me.,  239. 
Cape  Rosier,  Me.,  261,  262. 
Captain's  Hill.  Duxbury,  178,  183. 
Casco  Bay,  240-244. 
Casino,  Newport,  171. 
Castine,  Me.,  250-253,  260. 
Castle  Clinton,  N.  Y.,  11,  20. 
Castle  Garden.  N.  Y.,  11.  86. 
Castle  Head,  Mount  Desert,  264. 
Castle  Island,  Boston,  1S9,  190,  210. 
Castle  William,  N.  Y.,  11,  63,  86. 
Catholic  Orphan  Asylum,  N.  Y.,  47. 
Catskill  Mountains,  149. 
Cedar  Hill  Cemetery,  Hartford,  125. 
Cedar  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals,  232, 

234. 
Cedar  Street,  N.  Y.,  22. 
Central  Falls,  R.  I.,  155,  156. 
Central  Park,  N.  Y.,  22,  33,  49-58, 

105. 
Centre  Church,  New  Haven,  115. 
Century  Club,  N.  Y.,  35. 
Chambers  Street,  N.  Y.,  25. 
Champlain,   Samuel,  233,  247,  262, 

264. 
Charles  I.,  king,  92,  220. 
Charles  II.,  king,  158. 
Charles   River,    188,   190,   200,  204, 

205,   211. 
Charlestown,  Mass.,  187,  190. 
Charlestown  Navy-yard,  206,  211. 
Charlestown  Street,  Boston,  200. 


272 


INDEX, 


Charter  Oak  Avenue,  Hartford,  123. 

Charter  Oak,  Hartford,  123. 

Charter  Oak  Hill,  Hartford,  123. 

Cliarter  Oak  Ins.  Co..  Hartford,  124. 

Chatham  Street,  N.  Y.,  24,  60. 

Cheeves,  (ieorge,  242. 

Chelten  Hills,  Pa.,  7. 

Chelsea,  Mass.,  190. 

Chemical  Bank,  N.  Y.,  26. 

Chesapeake,  frigate,  17. 

Cheshire,  Mass.,  loU. 

Chestnut  Hill  reservoir,  Boston,  205. 

Cheviot  Hills,  Milton,  176. 

Chickering  Hall,  N.  Y.,  35. 

Chicopee  River,  129,  151. 

Chinese  cheap  labor,  138. 

Chowder,  76. 

Christ  Church,  Boston,  200. 

Christmas  trees,  261. 

Church  of  Covenant,  N.  Y.,  41. 

Church  of  Divine  Paternity,  N.  Y., 

44. 
Church  of  Good  Shepherd,  Hartford, 

125. 
Church  of  Heavenly  Rest,  N.  Y.,  44. 
Church  of  Messiah,  N.  Y.,  41. 
Church  of  the  Pilgrims,  Brooklyn, 

67. 
Church  of  the  Transfiguration,  N.Y., 

36. 
Church  Street,  N.  Y.,  15. 
Churches,  City  of,  64. 
City  Hall,  Boston,  196. 
Citv  Hall,  Lynn,  213. 
City  Hall,  N.  Y.,  25. 
City  Hall  Park,  N.  Y.,  23,  24,  61. 
City  Hall,  Providence,  161. 
City  Island,  103. 
City  of  Churches,  64. 
Clams,  76,  77,  82,  83,  163. 
Clam-bake,  164. 
Clam  chowder,  76. 
Clarendon  Street,  Boston,  204. 
Clark's  Island,  Plymouth,  179,  180, 

183. 
Cleopatra's  Needle,  51. 
Cleveland,  President,  67. 
Cliff  Walk,  Newport,  166,  167. 
Clifton,  Mass.,  215,  216. 
Clifton,  Staten  Island,  88,  95. 
Clinton,  DeWitt,  statue,  Greenwood, 

69. 
Clinton  Hall,  N.  Y.,  28. 
Clinton  Street,  Brooklyn,  66,  67. 
Cob  Dock,  Brooklyn,  62. 
Cobb,  Grandfather,  181. 


Cod,  Cape,  176.  186. 
Coddington.  William,  169. 
Codfish,  emblem,  Boston,  194. 
Cohasset,  Mass.,  177. 
Cole's  Hill,  Plymouth,  183. 
College  of  St.  Francis  Xavier,  N.  Y., 

35. 
CoUyer,  Robert,  N.  Y.,  41. 
Color-bearer,  statue,  Pittsfield,  139. 
Colt  Arms  Co.,  Hartford,  125. 
Colt  rampant,  125. 
Colt,  Samuel,  108,  124,  125. 
Columbia  College,  N.  Y.,  47. 
Columbus,  portrait,  N.  Y.,  25. 
Common,  Boston,  188,  191-193,  194. 
Commonwealth     Avenue,     Boston, 

204. 
Communipaw,  N.  J.,  10,  12. 
Conanicut  Island.  163. 
Concord,  Mass.,  200. 
Concourse,  Coney  Island,  79,  84. 
Coney  Island,  69-91,  98. 
Coney  Island  Jockey  Club,  73, 
Coney  Island  railroads,  68,  71. 
Congregational  church,  Greenwich, 

109. 
Congress  Street,  Portland,  241. 
Connecticut,  107-126. 
Connecticut  Blue  Laws,  123,  126. 
Connecticut  Hall,  New  Haven,  114. 
Connecticut  River,  109,  113,  119. 
Connecticut  River,  ox-bow,  135. 
Connecticut,  State  Capitol,  118,  122, 

135. 
Consolidated  Stock  E.Kchange,  N.  Y., 

19. 
Continental      Island,     Portsmouth, 

228. 
Cooper  Institute,  N.  Y.,  29. 
Cooper,  Peter,  29. 
Copp's  Hill,  Boston,  191,  200. 
Corbin,  Austin,  41,  71,  79. 
Corlaer's  Hook,  N.  Y.,  62. 
Corliss  engine.  Providence,  162. 
Corner  Book-store,  Boston,  199. 
Corrigan.  Archbishop,  47. 
Cos  Cob,  Conn.,  110. 
Cottages,  Nahant,  214. 
Cottages,  Newport,  166-169. 
Cotton    Dock    Company,  American, 

95. 
Court-House,  New,  N.  Y.,  25. 
Cove,  Providence,  160. 
Covenant  Church,  N.  Y.,  41. 
Coy's  Hill,  Ware,  152. 
Cozy  Nook,  Lenox,  144. 


INDEX. 


273 


Cradle  of  Liberty,  Boston,  199. 

Cranberries,  264. 

Cranberry    Islands,   Mount   Desert, 

266. 
Croton  Aqueduct,  52,  54. 
Croton  Lakes,  5-4,  55. 
Croton  reservoir,  IST.  Y.,  43,  50,  55. 
Croton  River,  54. 
Crystal  Lake,  Providence,  162. 
Cushing,  Caleb,  225. 
Cusbing's  Island,  Me.,  242. 
Custom-bouse,  N.  Y.,  IS. 

Dagyr  of  Lynn,  212. 

Damarine,  sacbem,  245. 

Damariscotta,  Me.,  245. 

Dampshire,  227. 

Dane  Hall,  Harvard,  221. 

Dane,  Natban,  221. 

Danvers,  Mass.,  220. 

Dark  Day,  110. 

Dark  Harbor,  Islesboro',  262. 

Dartmouth  Street,  Boston,  204. 

Davenport,  Colonel,  110. 

Davenport,  Jobn,  114,  117. 

Dawes,  Henry  L.,  140. 

Deer  Island,  Boston,  189,  210,  212. 

Deerfield,  Mass.,  135,  136. 

Deerfield  River,  136,  137. 

Deering  Oaks,  Portland,  241. 

Delancey  pine,  103. 

Delaware  Indians,  31. 

Delaware  River,  8. 

Delmonico's,  N.  Y.,  33,  36. 

Depew,  Chauncey  M.,  42. 

Despair  Island,  163. 

De  Tocqueville,  107.  * 

Dexter,  Timotby,  225. 

Digbton,  Mass.,  174. 

Dighton  Rock,  174. 

Dilke,  Charles,  209. 

Divine    Paternity,   church,   N.   Y., 

44. 
Divinity  Hall,  New  Haven,  113. 
Dix  Island,  Me.,  255. 
Dix  Island  granite,  256. 
Dixwell,  115. 

Dock  Square,  Boston,  198. 
Dog  Mountain,  Mount  Desert,  263. 
Dolphin    fishermen,  236. 
Dorchester,  Mass.,  190. 
Dorchester  Bay,  Mass.,  188,  210. 
Dorchester  Neck,  Boston,  190. 
Down  East,  223. 
Drake,  Samuel  Adams.  223. 
Drexel  Building,  N.  Y.,  17. 

18 


Drexel,  Morgan  &  Co.,  17. 
Dry-goods  district,  Boston,  201. 
Dry-goods  district,  N.  Y.,  26. 
Duck  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals,  232. 
Duke  of  York,  14,  92. 
Dunellen,  N.  J.,  9. 
Dunster,  President,  208. 
Dutch  Church,  N.  Y.,  46. 
Dutch  Reformed  Church,  N.  Y.,  36. 
Duxbury,  Mass.,  178,  179. 
Duxbury  Beach,  Mass.,  178,  183. 
Dwight,  President,  152. 

Eagle   Lake,  Mount  Desert,  263, 

267. 
East  Boston,  Mass.,  190,  210-212. 
East  Eden,  Mount  Desert,  264,  265. 
East  India  Marine  Hall,  Salem,  220. 
East  Penobscot  Bay,  261,  262. 
East   River,  10,  13,  17,  56-64,   86, 

10.3. 
East  River  Bridge,  10,  60-64,  87, 88, 

95. 
East  River  islands,  21,  58. 
East   Rock,  New  Haven,  114,  115, 

116,  135. 
Eastchester  Bay,  103. 
Easton,  Mass.,  174. 
Easton,  Pa.,  9. 
Eastport,  Me.,  268. 
Eden,  Mount  Desert,  264,  265. 
Edwards,  Jonathan,  132,  146. 
Eel-Land,  Mass.,  218. 
Egg  Rock,  Nabant,  140. 
Egremont,  Mass.,  149. 
Eighteenth  Street,  N.  Y.,  35. 
Election  Rock,  Clark's  Island,  180. 
Election  Sermon,  Boston,  198. 
Elephant,  Coney  Island,  78,  90. 
Elevated  railroads,  20,  29,  44,  52,  56, 

57,  86. 
Elizabeth,  N.  J.,  9,  97. 
Elizabeth,  Cape,  Me.,  240,  242. 
Elizabeth  River,  9,  97. 
Elizabethport,  N.  J.,  9,  92. 
Elms,  112. 

Emmanuel  College,  England,  208. 
Emmanuel  Temple,  N.  Y.,  44. 
Endicott,  John,  218. 
Enfield  Rapids,  Conn.,  119,  126. 
Ensign  Island,  Islesboro',  258. 
Enterprise  and  Boxer,  243. 
Equitable  Life  Building.  N.  Y.,  22. 
Erastina,  Staten  Island,  97. 
Erie  Canal  barges,  63. 
Essex  county,  Mass.,  136,  213. 


274 


INDEX. 


Essex  Institute,  Salem,  220. 
Essex  Street,  Salem,  220. 
Ei^ening  J'ost,  N.  Y.,  23. 
Everett,  Mount.  127,  148,  149. 
Exchange  Place,  N.  Y.,  18. 
Exeter  Street,  Boston,  204. 

Fairfield,  Conn,,  110. 
Fairlield  Street,  Boston,  204. 
Faith,  statue,  Plymouth,  179,  186. 
Faith  Street,  Providence,  160. 
Fall  River,  Mass.,  173. 
Falmouth  Foreside,  Casco  Bay,  242. 
Faneuil  Hall,  Boston,  198. 
Faneuil  Market,  Boston,  199. 
Faneuil,  Peter,  195,  199. 
Far  Rockaway,  85,  90,  98. 
Farmers'  Loan  &  Trust  Co.,  N.  Y., 

18. 
Farmington  Hills,  Conn.,  124. 
Farmington  River,  126. 
Farragut,  statue,  N.  Y.,  33. 
Federal  Hall,  N.  Y.,  18. 
Female  seminary,  Ipswieh,  224. 
Feuwick,  Governor,  120. 
Fenwick  Hall,  Saybrook,  120. 
Ferns,  261. 

Fertilizer-factories,  97. 
Fertilizers,  121. 
Field,  Cyrus  W.,  19,  85,  146. 
Field,  David  Dudley,  146. 
Field's  Hill,  Stockbridge,  146. 
Fifteenth  Street,  N.  Y.,  35. 
Fifth  Avenue,  N.  Y.,  32,  34-49,  51. 
Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  N.  Y.,  33. 
Fifth  Avenue  prices,  49. 
Fiftieth  Street,  N.  Y.,  46. 
Fiftv-first  Street,  N.  Y.,  46,  47. 
Fifty-second  Street,  N.  Y.,  48. 
Fifty-fifth  Street,  N.  Y.,  48. 
Fifty-sixth  Street,  N.  Y.,  49. 
Fifty-seventh  Street,  N.  Y.,  48,  49. 
Fifty-ninth  Street,  N.  Y.,  49. 
Fillmore,  John,  236. 
Fillmore,  President,  236. 
Fir  trees,  258,  261,  266. 
First   Baptist   Church,  Providence, 

160. 
First  Church,  Salem,  219. 
Fisheries,   194,   195,  201,  202,  213, 

222,  247. 
Fisher's  Nest,  Berkshire,  147 
Fisk,  James,  27. 
Fitchburg  R.  R.,  136. 
Flagstalt  Hill,  Boston,  193. 
Flatbush  Avenue,  Brooklyn,  71 


Flood  Rock,  Hell  Gate,  59. 

Fogs,  237,  265,  266. 

Fog-sirens,  238,  255. 

Foliage,  autumn,  142. 

Ford  of  Harts,  121. 

Fordham,  N.  Y.,  105. 

Fore  River,  Portland,  243. 

Forefathers'  Rock,  Plymouth,  182. 

Forest  City,  the,  Me.,  241. 

Forest  Hills  Cemetery,  Boston,  205. 

Forests,  238,  240,  254. 

Forrest,  Edwin,  28. 

Fort  Adams,  Newport,  165. 

Fort  George,  20. 

Fort  Hamilton,  N.  Y.,  89,  95. 

Fort  Hill,  Boston,  191,  201. 

Fort  Hill,  Plymouth,  185. 

Fort  Hill,  States  Island,  94. 

Fort  Independence,  Boston,  189. 

Fort  Lafayette,  N.  Y.,  89. 

Fort  Massachusetts,  138. 

Fort  Pentagoet,  Me.,  248,  250,  253. 

Fort  Pepperell,  Kittery,  238. 

Fort   Point   Channel,   Boston,   187, 

190. 
Fort  Preble,  Portland,  242. 
Fort  Saybrook,  Conn.,  119. 
Fort  Sewall,  Marblehead,  217. 
Fort  Wadsworth,  N.  Y.,  89,  95. 
Fort  Warren,  Boston,  189. 
Fort  Winthrop,  Boston,  189,  212. 
Fortieth  Street,  N.  Y.,  43. 
Forty-second  Street,  N.  Y.,  44,  105. 
Forty-third  Street,  N.  Y.,  44. 
Forty-fifth  Street,  N.  Y.,  44. 
Forty-sixth  Street,  N.  Y.,  45. 
Forty-seventh  Street,  N.  Y.,  45. 
Forty-eighth  Street,  N.  Y.,  46. 
Fourteenth  Street,  N.  Y.,  30,  31. 
Fourth  Avenue,  N.  Y.,  39. 
Fourth  Street,  N.  Y.,  34. 
Fox  Islands,  261. 
Franklin,  Benjamin,  197,  198. 
Franklin,  General,  125. 
Franklin's  parents,  195. 
Franklin,  statue,  Boston,  196. 
Franklin,  statue,  N.  Y.,  24. 
Freedom  of  the  Will,  147. 
French,  Ciayton,  7. 
French  flats,  N.  Y.,  33,  49. 
Frenchman's  Bay,  Me.,  262,  263,  265. 
Friendship  Street,  Providence,  160. 
Frog  Pond,  Boston,  193. 
Fulton  Ferry,  64,  65. 
Fulton,  Robert,  17,  19. 
Fulton  Street,  Brooklyn,  61,  65,  66, 


INDEX. 


275 


Fulton  Street,  N.  Y.,  23. 

Gallows  Hill,  Salem,  220. 

Garden  City,  Long  Island,  39. 

Garrett,  Robert,  48. 

Garrison,  Commodore,  grave,  69. 

Garrison,  Wm.  Lloyd,  225. 

Geology  of  Maine  coast,  246. 

Geurge  I.,  254. 

George  IL,  200. 

George  IIL,  statue,  N.  Y.,  19. 

George's  Island,  Boston,  189. 

George's  Sboals,  247. 

George  Tavern,  Hampton,  226. 

Gilkey's  Harbor,  Islesboro',  258. 

Gilmore,  Patrick  Sarsfield,  81. 

Giisey  House,  N.  Y.,  36. 

Glaciers,  246. 

Glad  Hill,  Lenox,  144. 

Glen  Island,  104. 

Gloucester,  Mass.,  215,  218,  222. 

Gloucester  Street,  Boston,  204. 

Goffe,  115. 

Goffe  and  Whalley,  133. 

Gold  bars,  18. 

Golden  Hill,  Bridgeport,  111. 

Good   Shepherd    Church,  Hartford, 

125. 
Goodyear,  Charles,  108. 
Gosport,  N.  H.,  234. 
Gosport  Church,  Isles  of  Shoals,  234. 
Gough,  John  B.,  225. 
Gould,  Jay,  45,  46,  57. 
Gould's  mausoleum,  46,  106. 
Governor's  Island,  Boston,  189, 190, 

210,  212. 
Governor's  Island,  N.  Y.,  11,  16,  62, 

63,  86,  88. 
Governor's  Room,  N.  Y.,  25. 
Gowanus  Bay,  63,  86,  88. 
Govpanus  Heights,  63,  64,  68. 
Grace  Chapel,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Grace  Church.  N.  Y.,  30. 
Gramercy  Park,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Granary    Burying-ground,   Boston, 

195. 
Grand  Boulevard,  N.  Y.,  22,  34. 
Grand  Central  Hotel,  N.  Y.,  27. 
Grand  Central  Station,  N.  Y.,  41, 44, 

105. 
Grand  Street,  N.  Y.,  26. 
Granite  Branch  R.  R.,  176. 
Granite  quarries,  173,  175,  176,  221, 

222,  255,  256. 
Graves,  reefs,  Boston,  210. 
Gravesend,  N.  Y.,  72. 


Gravesend  Bay,  75,  90. 

Graylock  Mountain,  127,  135,  138, 

139,   143. 
Great  Barrington,  Mass.,  147,  148. 
Great  Head,  Mount  Desert,  264. 
Greeley's  tomb,  69. 
Green  Mountain,  Mount  Desert,  263, 

267. 
Green  Mountains,  115,  127,  136. 
Greenwich,  Conn.,  109. 
Greenwich  Street,  N.  Y.,  56. 
Greenwood  Cemetery,  Brooklyn,  63, 

64,  67-70,  84,  88. 
Gridiron,  Hell  Gate,  59. 
Grindle's  Point,  Islesboro',  258,  259. 
Grindle's  Point  Light,  258,  259. 
Gurnet,  The,  Mass.,  178,  179. 
Gusty  Gables,  Lenox,  144. 
Gymnasium,  Harvard,  208. 

Hadlet,  Mass.,  132,  135. 
Hadley  Falls,  Mass.,  129,  130. 
Hadley  Street,  Mass.,  132,  133,  135. 
Hale,  Nathan,  statue,  Hartford,  122. 
Haley's  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals,  232. 
Half-Moon  Island,  Boston,  190. 
Half-Moon,  ship,  100. 
Hall,  Dr.  John's,  church,  48. 
Hallett's  Point,  N.  Y.,  58,  59. 
Hamilton,  Alexander,  12,  17. 
Hamilton,  Fort,  89,  95. 
Hampton,  N.  H.,  226. 
Hampton  Beach,  N.  H.,  226,  229. 
Hancock,  John,  175,  194,  195. 
Hanging  Rocks,  Newport,  170. 
Happy  Street,  Providence,  160. 
Harlem,  N.  Y.,  56. 
Harlem  Heights,  N.  Y.,  52. 
Harlem  River,  21,  34,  44,  52-54,  57, 

101,  105. 
Harris  cassimere,  155. 
Harrison,  President,  67,  72. 
Hart,  John  S.,  147. 
Hartford,  Conn..  116,  118,  121-126. 
Hart's  Island,  N.  Y.,  58. 
Harvard,  John,  207. 
Harvard,  statue,  Cambridge,  207. 
Harvard     University,     Cambridge, 

207,  249. 
Hawkins,  pirate,  236. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  141, 145, 148, 

220,  234,  244. 
Haymarket  Square,  Boston,  199. 
Hazardville,  Conn.,  126. 
Heart  of  Berkshire,  139,  141. 
Heavenly  Rest  Church,  N.  Y.,  44. 


276 


INDEX. 


Heirs  of  Anneke  Jans,  15. 

Hell  Gate,  N.  Y.,  58,  119. 

Hell  Gate  explosions,  59,  60. 

Heiuans,  Mrs.,  182. 

Herald,  N.  Y.,  28. 

Hereford  Street,  Boston,  204. 

Higgins's  Island,  104. 

High  Bridge,  N.  Y.,  52,  53,  54,  101. 

High  Street,  Newburyport,  225. 

Highlands  of  New  Jersey,  8. 

Hilton,  Henry,  39. 

Hilton,  Martha,  229,  230. 

Hingham,  Mass.,  211. 

Hingham  Old  Church,  211. 

Historical  Society,  N.  Y.,  29. 

Hoboken,  N.  J.,  12. 

Hoffman  House,  N.  Y.,  33. 

Hog  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals,  232 

Holliman,  Ezekiel,  160. 

Holmes,  0.  W.,  208. 

Holvoke,  Mass.,  129,  130,  135. 

Holyoke,  Mount,  127,  131,  133-136. 

Holyoke  Seminary,  137. 

Home  for  Working  Girls,  N.  Y.,  39. 

Hooker,  General,  133. 

Hooker,  Thomas,  121. 

Hoosac  Mountains,  127,  135,  136. 

Hoosac  River,  138. 

Hoosac  Tunnel,  137. 

Hope  Island,  163. 

Hope,  Mount,  158,  173. 

Hope  Street,  Providence,  160. 

Hopkins,  Mark,  148. 

Hopkins,  Mrs,,  148. 

Horticultural  Hall,  Boston,  195. 

Hotel  de  Clam,  Coney  Island,  82. 

Houghton,   Mifflin    &    Co.,  Boston, 

199. 
Hours,  The,  painting,  161. 
Housatonic    River,    109,    112,    139, 

147. 
Housatonic  Valley,  144-150. 
Housatonnuc,  Mass.,  146, 
House  of  Seven  Gables,  145. 
Howe,  Elias,  151. 
Howe,  Lord,  94. 

Howe  Sewing-Machine  Co.,  111. 
Hudson,  Hendrick,  11,  13,  75,  100. 
Hudson  River,  10,  11,  15,  21,  27,  52, 

53,  62,  86. 
Hudson  River  R.  R.,  100. 
Huguenot  refugees,  106. 
Hull,  John,  172. 
Hull,  Mass.,  211. 
Hunter's  Island,  103,  104. 
Huntingdon,  C.  P.,  49. 


Hutchinson,  Anne,  104. 
Hutchinson's  River,  104. 

Independenck,  Fort,  Boston,  189. 

Indian  Island,  Oldtown,  253, 

Inglis,  Dr.,  16, 

Institution  for  the  Blind,  N.  Y.,  40. 

Ipswich,  Mass,,  224. 

Ipswich  Bay,  225,  229,  236. 

Ipswich  River,  224, 

Ipswich  Seminary,  224, 

Irving,  Washington,  100. 

Isle  au  Haut,  Me.,  261, 

Isle  des  Monts  deserts.  Me.,  262. 

Isle  of  Peace,  170. 

Isles  of  Shoals,  231-238, 

Isles  of  Shoals  lighthouse,  232,  237. 

Islesboro',  Me,,  258-262. 

Jamaica  Bay,  85. 

Jamaica  Plain,  Mass.,  205. 

Jamaica  Pond,  Mass,,  205. 

Jans,  Anneke,  15. 

Jersey  City,  10,  11,  21,  86. 

Jerusalem  Road,  Mass.,  211. 

Jesuits,  35. 

Jesuit  missionaries,  248, 

Judd  Hall,  Middletown,  121. 

Judith,  Point,  172. 

Job's  Island,  Islesboro',  258. 

Jonathan,  Brother,  108. 

Jones,    Frank    &    Son's    brewery, 

Portsmouth,    227. 
Josh  Billings,  139. 
Joy  Street,  Providence,  160. 

Kanucks,  224. 

Kearney,  Gen.  Philip,  17. 

Kemble,  Fanny,  142. 

Kennebec  River,  243,  245,  249. 

Kennebunk  River,  240. 

Kidd,  Captain,  236, 

Kidder,  Peabody  &  Co.,  17. 

Kill  von  Kull,  10,  86,  92,  93,  96. 

King  Philip,  173, 

King  Philip's  Chair,  136. 

King  Philip's  club,  124, 

King  Philip's  War,  135,  151,  157, 

186, 
King's  Bridge,  N.  Y.,  53, 
King's  Bridge  Road,  N.  Y,,  53. 
King's  Chapel,  Boston,  195. 
King's  College,  N.  Y,,  47. 
King's  county,  N.  Y,,  72. 
King's  Farm,  N,  Y.,  15. 
Kingston  Bay,  178. 


INDEX. 


277 


Kittery,  Me.,  227,  238. 
Kittery  Navy-yard,  228,  231. 
Kittery  Point,  Me.,  228,  247. 
Knickerbockers,  14,  19,  101. 
Knights  of  St.  Crispin,  213. 
Knox  county.  Me.,  245,  254. 
Knox,  Henry,  255,  259. 

Lady  Wentworth   of   the   Hall, 

229,  230. 
Lafayette,  Fort,  N.  Y.,  89. 
Lafayette  Place,  N.  Y.,  28. 
Lafayette,  statue,  N.  Y.,  30. 
Lamentation,  Mount,  117. 
Land  of  Steady  Habits,  107. 
Langham  Hotel,  N.  Y.,  48. 
Langhorne,  Pa.,  8. 
Lanier  Hill,  Berkshire,  145. 
Latimer  fugitive-slave  case,  140. 
Laurel  Lake,  145. 
Lawrence,  Mass.,  225. 
Lawrence,  Capt.  James,  17. 
Leather-factories,  151. 
Lee,  Mass.,  145. 
Lehigh  Valley  R.  R.,  8,  9,  91. 
Lenni  Lenapes,  31. 
Lenox,  Mass.,  142-145. 
Lenox  land,  prices,  144. 
Lenox  Library,  N.  Y.,  49. 
Leonard  Street,  N.  Y.,  27. 
Leutze's  painting,  170. 
Lexington,  battle  of,  198,  200. 
Leyden  Street,  Plymouth,  184,  185. 
Liberty,  statue,  N.  Y.,  10,  16,  63,  88, 

95, 
Liberty  Street,  N.  Y.,  14. 
Lighthouse  Island,  Boston,  189. 
Lighthouse  poem,  238. 
Lily  Bowl,  141. 
Lime-burning,  255,  256. 
Lincoln  Bank,  N.  Y.,  44. 
Lincoln,  Benjamin,  255. 
Lincoln  county.  Me.,  245. 
Lincoln,  statue,  Brooklyn,  71. 
Lincoln,  statue,  N.  Y.,  30. 
Lind,  Jenny,  111. 
Lion  and  Unicorn,  Boston,  198. 
Lion  Brewery,  N.  Y.,  52. 
Liquor  agency,  Portland,  241. 
Little   Church  'Round  the   Corner, 

N.  Y.,  36. 
Little  Deer  Island,  Me.,  262. 
Little  Harbor,  Newcastle  I.,  229. 
Little  Nahant,  Mass.,  214., 
Little  Wizard,  45,  57. 
Locomotives,  174. 


Log-rafts,  238,  240,  253. 
Long  Island,  Boston,  189,  210. 
Long  Island,  N.  Y.,  21,  116. 
Long  Island,  Penobscot  Bay,  258, 

259. 
Long  Island  R.  R.,  71. 
Long  Island    Sound,   58,   101,  103, 

107,  111,  119. 
Long  River,  109,  119. 
Londoner's  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals, 

232. 
Longfellow,  H.   W.,   129,   140,  141, 

178,   208,    229,   243,    244,   251, 

254. 
Longfellow,  statue,  Portland,  241. 
Lonsdale,  R.  I.,  155. 
Lord  &  Taylor,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Lottery,  114. 
Lotus  Club,  N.  Y.,  35. 
Louisburg,  capture,  228. 
Lovers'  Walk,  Nahant,  214. 
Low,  pirate,  236. 
Lowell  Island,  Marblehead,  218. 
Lowell,  J.  R.,  208. 
Lowell,  Mass.,  225. 
Lower  Quarantine,  N.  Y.,  98. 
Luce,  Admiral,  62. 
Lumber,  254, 

Lunatic  asylum,  Worcester,  152. 
Lynn,  Mass.,  210-213,  215. 
Lynn  Bay,  Mass.,  212,  214. 
Lynn  City  Hall,  213. 
Lyon,  Mary,  137. 

Machigonxe,  Me.,  241. 

McKane,  John  Y.,  72. 

Macready  riots,  28. 

Madison  Avenue,  N.  Y.,  36,  47. 

Madison  Square,  N.  Y.,  31,  32,  33, 

36. 
Madison  Square  Garden,  N.  Y.,  33. 
Madockawando,  sachem,  251. 
Magnolia  Beach,  Mass.,  224. 
Mahkeenac  Lake,  145. 
Mail  Street,  N.  Y.,  25. 
Main  Street,  Hartford,  124. 
Maine,  238-268. 
Maine  Hospital,  Portland,  242. 
Maine  Liquor  Law,  241. 
Malaga  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals,  232. 
Malbone.  Edward  G.,  161. 
Mall,  Central  Park,  51. 
Mamaroneck,  106. 
Manchester,  Mass.,  218,  221. 
Manchester,  N.  H.,  225. 
Manchester  Beach,  Mass.,  224. 


278 


INDEX. 


Manhattan  Beach,  Coney  Island,  71, 

75.  79. 
Manhattan  Club,  N.  Y.,  35. 
Manhattan  Hotel,  Coney  Island,  79, 

80. 
Manhattan  Island,  13,  14,  20,  100. 
Manhattan  Railway,  N.  Y.,  67. 
Manomet,  Mass.,  179,  183. 
Manville,  R.  I.,  155. 
Maple-sugar,  137. 
Marble-quarries,  145. 
Marblehead,  Mass.,  215-218. 
Marblehead  Neck,  217. 
Marine  Hall,  Salem,  220. 
Marine  Hospital,  Brooklyn,  62. 
Marine  Railway,  Coney  Island,  79. 
Mark  Twain,  123. 
Marlborough  Street,  Boston,  204. 
Marshfield,  Mass.,  177. 
Martyrs'  Monument,  N.  Y.,  16. 
Mason,  Captain,  228. 
Masonic  Temple,  Boston,  195. 
Massacre,  Boston,  198. 
Massasoit,  158,  186. 
Massachusetts,  126-154,  173-225. 
Massachusetts   Bay,    176,  177,  187, 

206,  218. 
Massachusetts,  Fort,  138. 
Massachusetts  Lunntic  Asylum,  152. 
Massachusetts  North  Shore,  209. 
Massachusetts  to  Virginia,  140. 
MasHHchusetts  ''^py,  152. 
Massachusetts  State-House,  187, 191, 

194,  195. 
Mather,  Cotton,  121,  175,  178,  200, 

221,  235,  236,  249. 
Mather,  Increase,  200. 
Mather,  Samuel,  200. 
Mattaneag  Meadows,  Conn.,  126. 
Mattawamkeag  River,  248. 
Mausoleum,  Gould's,  46,  106. 
Mausoleum,  Vanderbilt's,  98. 
Ma.vflower,  the,  180. 
Megunticook  Mountain,  257. 
Melville,  Herman,  141. 
Memorial  Hall,  Cambridge,  207,  208. 
Memorial  Hall,  Middletown,  121. 
Mercantile  Library,  N.  Y.,  28. 
Merchant's  Gate,  22. 
Meriden,  Conn.,  117. 
Meriden  Britannia  Co.,  117. 
Merrimac  River,  225,  249. 
Merry  Meeting  Bay,  244. 
Merry  Mount,  Mass.,  175. 
Messiah  Church,  N.  Y.,  41. 
Metroiiulitan  Hotel,  N.  Y.,  27. 


Metropolitan  Museum,  N.  Y.,  49,  51. 

Metropolitan  Opera-House,  N.Y.,  34. 

Mianus  River,  110. 

Middletown,  Conn.,  121. 

Miles  Standish's  sword,  181. 

Milford,  Conn.,  112. 

Milk  Street,  Boston,  193. 

Mill  River,  116. 

Mills  building,  N.  Y.,  18. 

Milton,  Mass.,  175. 

Minot's  Ledge,  Mass.,  177. 

Minuit,  Peter,  14,  46. 

Mirage,  266. 

Modern  Athens,  187,  203. 

Mohawk  Indians,  250. 

Mohegan  Indians,  100. 

Monadnock,  Mount,  136. 

Monroe,  President,  165. 

Montague  House,  N.  H.,  227. 

Montague  Street,  Brooklyn,  66. 

Montez,  Lola,  grave,  69. 

Monts,  Sieur  des,  233. 

Monument  Mountain,  145,  146,  147, 
148. 

Moon  Island,  Boston,  210. 

Moosehead  Lake,  Me,,  244. 

Moravian  church.  New  Dorp,  98. 

Morgan,  J.  Pierpont,  17. 

Morgan,  Miles,  statue,  Springfield, 
127. 

Morgue,  N.  Y.,  58. 

Morris  Canal,  10. 

Morris,  Gouverneur,  53. 

Morris,  Lewis,  53. 

Morrisania,  N.  Y.,  53.  105. 

Morse's  monument,  69. 

Morton,  Levi  P.,  44. 

Morton,  Thomas,  175. 

Mosquitoes,  92,  97. 

Mount  Agamenticus,  229,  236,  239. 

Mount  Auburn  Cemetery,  Cam- 
bridge, 207. 

Mount  Desert,  Me.,  257,  261-267. 

Mount  Desert  Rock  Lighthouse,  Me., 
267. 

Mount  Everett,  127,  148,  149. 

Mount  Hope,  158,  173. 

Mount  Hope  Cemetery,  Boston,  205. 

Mount  Holyoke,  127,  131,  133-136. 

Mount  Holyoke  Seminary,  133,  137. 

Mount  Lamentation,  117. 

Mount  Megunticook,  257. 

Mount  Monadnock,  136. 

Mount  Nonotuck,  131,  134. 

Mount  Toby,  136. 

Mount  Tom,  115,  127,  131,  134. 


INDEX. 


279 


•Mount  Wachusett,  127. 
Mourt's  Relation,  181,  184,  185. 
Mugwumps  of  Brooklyn,  67. 
MuhheUanew  Indians,  14rt. 
Munjov's   Hill,  Portland,  241,  242, 

24;^. 
Murray  Hill,  N.  Y.,  36,  54. 
Murrav  Hill  Reservoir.  N.  Y.,  43. 
Murray  Hill  Tunnel,  N.  Y.,  41. 
Muscongus  Bay,  245. 
Muscongus  Patent,  254. 
Museum  of  Art,  N.  Y.,  49,  51. 
Music  Hall,  Boston,  195. 
Mutual  Life  building,  N.  Y.,  22. 
Mya  arenaria,  76. 
Mystic  River,  188. 

Nahant.  Mass.,  210,  212-215. 
Nahant  Bay,  214. 
Nantasket  Beach,  Mass.,  177,  211. 
Narragansett  Bay,  153, 157, 163,  164. 
Narragansett  Indians,  135,  157,  164. 
Narragansett  Pier,  R.  I.,  164. 
Narrows,  Bucksport,  247. 
Narrows,  N.  Y.,  10,  16,  84,  86,  88, 

89,  95. 
Nashua,  N.  H.,  225. 
Nassau,  N.  Y.,  13. 
Nassau  Street,  N.  Y.,  17,  22. 
National  Guard,  N.  Y.,  40. 
Naurakeag,  ^lass.,  218. 
Navesink  Highlands,  N.  J.,  69,  84, 

90,  91,  95. 
Navy-yard,  Boston,  206,  211. 
Naw-vard,  Brooklvn,  62. 
Navy-yard,  Kittery,  228,  231. 
Neddick,  Cape,  Me.,  239. 
Ncponset  River,  176,  188. 
Neshaminy  Creek,  8. 
Nestledown,  Lenox,  144. 
New  Amsterdam,  13. 

New  Bedford,  Mass.,  176. 

New  Court-House,  N.  Y.,  25. 

New  Dorp,  Staten  Island,  98. 

New  England,  105-268. 

New  England  Canaan,  175. 

New  Hampshire,  225-231,  243. 

New  Haven,  Conn.,  112-116. 

New  Haven  R.  R.,  105. 

New  Ireland,  15. 

New  Jersey,  8-13,  64. 

New  Jersey   Central   R.   R.,  9,  10, 

97. 
New  London,  Conn.,  109. 
New  Rochelle,  N.  Y.,  106. 
New  York,  11-105. 


New  York  Annexed  District,  98-105. 
New  York  Central  R.  R.,  43,  53. 
New  York  harbor,  10,  21,  63,  85-91. 
New  York  Historical  Society,  29. 
New  York  Hospital,  35. 
New  York  State  Arsenal,  40. 
New  York  University,  35. 
Newark,  N.  J.,  10. 
Newark  Bay,  9,  92,  96. 
Newburyport,  Mass.,  225,  236. 
Newbury  Street,  Boston,  204. 
Newcastle,  N.  H.,  229. 
Newcastle  Island,  Portsmouth,  229, 

231. 
Newport,  R.  I.,  158,  163,  165-172. 
Newport  Mountain,  Mount  Desert, 

263. 
Nexcs,  N.  Y.,  24. 
Newton,  General,  59. 
Niblo's  Theatre.  N.  Y.,  27. 
Nix's  Mate,  Boston,  189. 
Noddle's  Island,  Boston,  190. 
Nonotuck,  land  of,  Mass.,  130,  131, 

132. 
Nonotuck,  Mount,  131,  134. 
Norridgewock,  Me.,  249. 
North  Adams,  Mass.,  138. 
North  Easton,  Mass.,  174. 
North  Haven,  Me.,  261. 
North  Pennsylvania  R.  R.,  7. 
North  River,  Salem,  218,  224. 
North  Shore,  Mass.,  209. 
Northampton,  Mass.,  127,  131,  132, 

135,  146. 
North-east  Harbor,  Mount  Desert, 

266. 
North-west  Passage,  13. 
Norton's   Point,  Coney   Island,  76, 

78,  84. 
Norumbega,  246-253. 
Norumbega  City,  251. 
Norwalk,  110. 

Notch,  White  Mountains,  240. 
Nottingham,  wreck,  237. 
Nubble,  Cape  Neddick,  239. 
Nutmeg  State,  119,  122. 

Observatory,  Central  Park,  51. 
Observatory,  Coney  Island,  78,  83, 

84. 
Ocean  Drive,  Newport,  171. 
Ocean  Parkway,  Brooklyn,  70,  79, 

84. 
Ogontz,  Pa.,  7. 
Old  Bay  State,  126,  149,  176. 
Old  Brick  Church,  N.  Y.,  41. 


280 


INDEX. 


Old  Brick   Row,  New  Haven,  113, 

lU. 
Old  Church,  Hinghara,  211. 
Old  Clock  on  the  Stairs,  140. 
Old  Colony,  Mass.,  177,  179. 
Old  Colony  R.  R.,  173. 
Old  Corner  Bookstore,  Boston,  199. 
Old  Deerfield,  Mass.,  136. 
Old   Graylock,   127,    135,   138,    139, 

U8. 
Old  Hadley,  Mass.,  132,  135. 
Old  Orchard  Beach,  Me.,  240. 
Old  Point,  Me.,  249. 
Old  Put's  Hill,  110. 
Old  South  Church,  Boston,  196, 197, 

11)8. 
Old  State-House,  Boston,  194,  198. 
Old  Stratford,  Conn.,  149. 
Oldtown,  Me.,  253. 
One-Hundred-and-Tenth  Street,  N. 

Y.   52. 
One-Hundred-and-Thirty-fifth     St., 

N.  Y.,  55. 
Onions,  121. 
Onota  Lake,  141. 
On:  est,  yacht,  118. 
Ope  of  Promise,  141. 
Opera-IIouse,  Astor  Place,  N.  Y.,  28. 
Opera-Huuse,   Metropolitan,  N.  Y., 

34. 
Orange  Street,  Brooklyn,  66. 
Orange  Street,  New  Haven,  115. 
Oriental  Hotel,  Coney  Island,  79. 
Orphan  Asykan,  Catholic,  N.  Y.,  47. 
Orthodox  Dutch  Church,  N.  Y.,  46. 
Ottawa    House,    Cushing's    Island, 

242. 
Owl's  Head,  Me.,  262. 
Owl's  Head  Bay,  245,  255. 
Owl's  Head  Light,  245,  255,  258. 
Ox-bow,  Connecticut  River,  135. 
Oysters,  110. 

Paddock's  Island,  Mass.,  211. 
Paddy,  William,  196. 
Paine,  Tom,  106. 
Pain-killer,  Providence.  162. 
Palisades,  N.  Y.,  12,  52',  53,  87,  102. 
Paper-making,   126,   130,   145,  150, 

151. 
Park  Avenue,  N.  Y.,  41. 
Park  Avenue  Tunnel,  N.  Y.,  41,  44. 
Park  Bank,  N.  Y.,  23. 
Park  River,  Conn.,  118,  122. 
Park  Row,  N.  Y.,  23. 
Park  Street,  Boston,  195. 


Park  Street  Church,  Boston,  195. 
Parker,  Cortlandt,  92. 
Partridge,  Ralph,  178. 
Passaconoway,  sagamore,  229. 
Passadumkeag  River,  248. 
Passamaquoddy  Bay,  267. 
Patience  Island,  16.3. 
Patroon  of  Penobscot  Bay,  255. 
Paulus  Hook,  N.  J.,  10. 
Paving-blocks,  256. 
Pawtucket,  R.  I.,  155,  156,  157. 
Pawtucket  River,  156,  157. 
Peabody,  George,  220. 
Peabody,  Mass.,  220. 
Peabody  Institute,  Danvers,  220. 
Peabody  Museum,  New  Haven,  113, 

114. 
Peace,  Isle  of,  170. 
Pearl  Street,  Boston,  201. 
Pelham  Bay,  103. 
Pelham  Bay  Park,  N.  Y.,  101. 
Pelham  Neck,  103. 
Pemaquid  Point,  Me.,  243. 
Penduskeag  River,  248. 
Pennacook  Indians,  249. 
Pennsylvania,  7,  8. 
Pennsylvania  R.  R.,  9. 
Penobscot  Bay,  223,  245-267.    - 
Penobscot  Indians,  253. 
Penobscot  River,  245.  247-249. 
Pentagoet,  248,  250.  251. 
Pepperell,  Fort,  Kittery,  238. 
Pepperell,  Sir  William,'  228,  238. 
Pc])perellvi]le,  Me.,  239. 
Pequannock  River,  111. 
Pequot  Indians,  110. 
Pequot  War,  121. 
Pergola,  Central  Park,  51. 
Perth  Amboy,  N.  J.,  91,  92. 
Peter  the  Headstrong,  14,  30. 
Philadelphia,  7. 
Philadelphia   and    Reading    R.  R., 

7,  10. 
Philip,  King,  158,  173. 
Phillips,  pirate,  236. 
Piano  Row,  Boston,  195. 
Pierrepont  Street,  Brooklyn,  66. 
Pilgrim  Compact,  186. 
Pilgrim  Hall.  Plymouth,  181. 
Pilgrim  monument,  Plymouth,  179, 

186. 
Pilgrim  Rock,  Plymouth,  182. 
Pilgrims,  106,  107. 
Pilgrims,  Church  of,  Brooklyn,  67. 
Pine-tree  State.  238. 
Pirates,  235,  236. 


INDEX. 


281 


Piscataqua    River,   227,    228,   231, 

238. 
Piscataquis  River,  248. 
Pitt,  AVilliam,  139. 
Pittsfield,  Mass.,  138-141. 
Place  of  rolling  stones,  106. 
Plaided  meadows,  134. 
Plainlield,  N.  J.,  9. 
Players'  Club,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Plaza,  Brooklyn,  70. 
PI  \  mouth,  Mass.,  177,  179-186. 
Plymoutli  Bay,  178. 
Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn,  66. 
Plymouth  Company,  250. 
Plymouth  Rock,  67,  76,  179. 
Podunk  Meadows,  151. 
Point  Allerton,  Mass.,  211. 
Point  Judith,  172. 
Point  Shirley,  Mass.,  210,  212. 
Pontoosuc,  Lake,  141. 
Porcupine  Island,  Me.,  264,  266. 
Port  Johnson,  N.  J.,  96. 
Port  Liberty,  N.  J.,  10. 
Portland,  Me.,  240-244. 
Portlaud  Cemetery,  243. 
Portland  Lighthouse,  242. 
Portland  Press,  241. 
Portsmouth,   N.  H.,  227,   228,  231, 

236,  238. 
Portsmouth  harbor,  228. 
Post,  Boston.  197. 
Post-office,  Boston,  200. 
Post-office,  N.  Y.,  23. 
Pot  Rock.  Hell  Gate,  59. 
Potter's  Field,  N.  Y.,  34. 
Pound,  pirate,  236. 
Powahs.  175. 

Preble,  Fort,  Portland,  242, 
Prescott,  Col.  William,  206. 
Prescott,  Wm.  H.,  220. 
Prescott,  statue,  Boston,  206. 
Press,  Portland,  241. 
Princeton  College,  147. 
Print  cloths,  173. 

Printing-House  Square,  N.  Y.,  24. 
Produce    Exchange,  N.  Y.,  11,  18, 

63. 
Promised  Land,  141. 
Prospect    Park,    Brooklyn,    63,    70, 

84. 
Providence,  R.  I.,  157-162. 
Providence  River,  160. 
Prudence  Island,  163. 
Public  Garden,  Boston,  192,  193. 
Public  Green,  New  Haven,  112,  115. 
Public  Library,  Boston,  202. 


Pulpit  Rock,  Cape  Neddick,  239. 
Pumpkins,  146. 

Puritan  church,  Lenox,  143,  144. 
Puritan  Rangers,  250. 
Putnam,  General,  109,  122,  220. 
Putnam  Phalanx,  122, 
Putnam,  statue,  Hartford,  122. 
Putnam's  sword,  124. 
Pynchon,  William,  127. 

QuABOAG  Pond,  151. 

Quaker  Bridge  Reservoir,  N.  Y.,  55. 

Quarantine,  N.  Y.,  88,  95. 

Quarantine,  Lower,  N.  Y.,  98. 

Quay,  Senator,  72. 

Queen  Victoria's  portrait,  Peabody, 

220. 
Quincy,  Mass.,  174. 
Quincy  Bay,  Mass.,  210. 
Quincy  family,  175. 
Quincy,  Judith,  172. 
Quincy,  Josiah,  statue,  Boston,  196. 
Quincv,    Josiah,    statue,    Harvard, 

209. 
Quincy  Market,  Boston,  199. 
Quinnebaug  River,  109. 
Quinnepiack  River,  114.  116. 
Quinsigamond,  Lake,  152. 
Quoddy  Head,  Me.,  106,  247. 
Quoddy  Head  Lighthouse,  Me.,  268. 
Quonektakat  River,  119. 

Raceland,  74. 

Rainsford  Island,  Boston,  189. 

Rale,  Sebastian,  249,  250. 

Ramble,  Central  Park,  51. 

Randall's  Island,  N.  Y,,  58. 

Rapid  transit,  N.  Y.,  56. 

Rapid  transit,  Staten  Island,  93. 

Raritan  Bay,  89,  92,  94. 

Raritan  River,  8,  9. 

RatclifiFe,  Philip,  219. 

Raynham,  Mass.,  174, 

Reade  Street,  N.  Y.,  26. 

Reading  Railroad,  7,  10. 

Red  Hook  Point,  Brooklyn,  63,  65, 

86. 
Regicides,  115,  120. 
Remsen  Street,  Brooklyn,  66,  67. 
Revere  Beach,  Mass.,  212. 
Revere,  Paul,  195,  200. 
Rhode  Island,  154-172. 
Richmond  county,  N.  Y.,  96. 
Richmond,  Staten  Island,  96. 
River  of  the  Mountains,  11. 
Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  208. 


282 


INDEX. 


Robbins's  Reef,  N.  Y.  harbor,  95. 

Robin  Hood,  245. 

Rockaway,  N.  Y.,  85,  90,  98. 

Rockland,  Me.,  245,  255,  256. 

Rockport,  Me.,  256. 

Rocks,  106,  150-152,  216,  232,  233, 

245    247. 
Rocky  Hill,  Hartford,  118. 
Rocky  Point,  R.  I.,  164. 
Roebling,  John  A.,  61. 
Roebling,  Washington  A.,  61. 
Roger  Williams's  house,  Salem,  220. 
Roger  Williams   Park,  Providence, 

162. 
Rolling  stones,  place  of,  106. 
Romers  Islands,  98. 
Rowe,  Representative,  194. 
Roxbury,  Mass.,  190,  205. 
Rye  Beach,  N.  H.,  226,  229. 

Saco,  Me.,  240. 

Saco  River,  238,  240. 

Sagadahoc,  Me.,  245. 

Sailors'  Snug  Harbor,  Staten  Island, 

96. 
St.  Ann's  Church,  Brooklyn,  67. 
St.  Aspenquid,  229. 
St.  Botolph's  Town,  193. 
St.  Castine,  Baron,  251. 
St.  Crispin,  Knights  of,  213. 
St.  Croix  River,  268. 
St.  Francis  Xavier  College,  N.  Y.,  35. 
St.  George.  Staten  Island,  91,  93,  94, 

96,  98^ 
St.  George's  Church,  N.  Y.,  31. 
St.  George's  River,  245,  254. 
St.  John  River,  249. 
St.  Luke's  Hospital,  N.  Y.,  48. 
St.  Mark's  Church,  N.  Y.,  29. 
St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  N.  Y.,  27. 
St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  N.  Y.,  46, 47. 
St.  Paul's  Church,  N.  Y.,  23. 
St.  Tammany,  31. 
St.  Thomas's  Church,  N.  Y.,  48. 
Saints  of  Milford,  112. 
Salem,  Mass.,  187,  217,  218,  224. 
Salem  Street,  Boston,  200. 
Salem  witchcraft,  104,  220. 
Salisbury  Beach,  N.  H.,  226. 
Samoset,  186. 

Sanders  Theatre,  Harvard,  209. 
Sands,  116,  239. 
Sandy  Hook,  N.  J.,  69,  82,  84,  89- 

91,  95,  98. 
Saquish,  Mass.,  179. 
Sasco  Swamp,  Conn.,  110. 


Sashaway  River,  151. 

Saw-mills,  239. 
Saye  and  Sele,  Lord,  119. 
Saybrook,  Conn.,  113,  119,  120. 
Saybrook  Platform,  120. 
Scarborough  River,  240. 
Schnapps,  13,  14,  100. 
Scholar's  Gate,  22,  49,  51. 
School  Street,  Boston,  199. 
Schooner  Head,  Mount  Desert,  263, 

264. 
Schooners,  222,  256. 
Scituate,  Mass.,  177. 
Scrapple,  76. 

Sea  Beach  Palace,  Coney  Island,  78. 
Sea-fight,  Portland,  243. 
Sea-urchins,  261. 
Seabrook,  N.  H.,  226. 
Seaside  Park,  Bridgeport,  111. 
Seavey's  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals,  232. 
Seaweed,  239. 
Second  Avenue,  N.  Y.,  29. 
Sedgwick,  Miss,  142. 
Seeconk  Plains,  R   L,  159. 
Seeconk  River,  157,  159. 
Seidl,  Herr,  81. 
Sergeant,  John,  146. 
Seven  Gables,  House  of,  145. 
Seven- Hundred-Acre   Island,  Isles- 

boro',  258. 
Seven  Pillars,  New  Haven,  114. 
Sever,  William  R.,  181. 
Sewall,  Fort,  Marblehead,  217. 
Seward,  statue,  N.  Y.,  33. 
Shannon,  frigate,  17. 
Sharp,  Jacob,  32,  56. 
Sharp's  Rifle  Co.,  111. 
Shaw,  H.  W.,  139. 
Shawmut,  Boston,  187, 188, 190, 191. 
Sheepscott  Bay,  Me.,  244. 
Sheepscott  River,  245. 
Sheepshead  Bay,  72,  75. 
Sheffield,  Mass.,  149. 
Sheffield  School,  New  Haven,  113. 
Shelburne  Palls,  Mass.,  137. 
Shells,  261. 
Ship-ballast,  98. 
Shipbuilding,  245,  257. 
Shirley,  Governor,  210. 
Shoals,  Isles  of,  231-238. 
Shoals  Lighthouse,  232,  237. 
Shoemaking,  151,  201,  211,  212,  217, 

221. 
Shooter's  Island,  97. 
Shopping,  31. 
Shovel-making,  174. 


INDEX. 


283 


Silliman,  Benjamin,  143. 
Singer  Sewing-Machine  Co.,  9. 
Sixteenth  Street,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Sixth  Avenue,  N.  Y.,  43. 
Skull-and-Bones  Society,  Yale,  114. 
Slater,  Samuel,  156. 
Sloane,  W.  &  J.,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Smith   &  Wesson   Co.,   Springfield, 

128. 
Smith,  Capt.  John,  225,  233. 
Smith's  monument,  Isies  of  Shoals, 

235. 
Smugglers,  236. 
Smutty  Nose  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals, 

232,  234. 
Social  Mills,  "Woonsocket,  155. 
Soldiers'  Arch,  Hartford,  122. 
Soldiers'  Home,  N.  Y.,  58. 
Soldiers'  monument,  Boston,  193. 
Soldiers'  monument,  Greenwood,  69. 
Soldiers'    monument.    New    Haven, 

116. 
Soldiers'    monument.     Providence, 

161. 
Somerset  Club,  Boston,  194. 
Somerton,  Pa,,  8. 
Somerville,  Mass.,  190. 
Somes,  Abraham,  264. 
Somes  Sound,  Mount  Desert,  263, 

266,  267. 
Somerville,  Me.,  264. 
South  Boston,  187,  190,  210. 
South  Boston  Bay,  188. 
South  Brooklyn,  64. 
South  Church,  Boston,  196-198. 
South  Church,  Newburyport,  225. 
South  End,  Boston,  197. 
South  Ferry,  N.  Y.,  20,  86. 
South  Hadley,  Mass.,  133. 
South  Hadley  Falls,  Mass.,  119. 
South  Norwalk,  Conn.,  110. 
South  River,  Salem,  218. 
South  Sea  Castle,  Portsmouth,  228. 
Southington,  Conn.,  115,  117. 
South-west  Harbor,  Mount  Desert, 

266. 
Spectacle  Island,  Boston,  190. 
Spencer,  Mass.,  151. 
Spouting  rocks,  Nahant,  214, 
Spouting  rocks,  Newport,  172. 
Springfield,    Mass.,    127-129,    135, 

150. 
Springfield  Armory,  128,  129. 
Spruce  Island,  Islesboro',  258. 
Spuyten  Duyvel  Creek,  21,  53,  100. 
Squantum,  Mass.,  177,  210. 


Squantum,  sachem,  177. 
Stamford,  Conn.,  110, 
Standard  Oil-Works,  96. 
Standish,  Miles,  175,  178,  185. 
Standish  monument,  178. 
Stapleton,  Staten  Island,  95. 
Star   Island,   Isles   of  Shoals,  232, 

234,  235. 
Starin,  John  H.,  96,  104. 
State-House,  Boston,  187,  191,  194, 

195. 
State  Street,  Boston,  198,  200,  201. 
State  Street,  N.  Y.,  19. 
State  Street,  Portland,  241. 
Staten  Island,  10,  16,  42,  63,  69,  84, 

88-99. 
Staten  Island  rapid  transit,  93. 
Stavers,  Mistress,  229. 
Steinway  tomb.  Greenwood,  69. 
Stevens,  Edwin  A.,  12. 
Stevens  Battery,  12. 
Stevens  Castle,  Hoboken,  12. 
Stevens  Institute,  Hoboken,  12. 
Stewart,  Alexander  T.,  26,  38. 
Stewart  building,  N.  Y.,  25,  26. 
Stewart  palace,  N.  Y.,  38. 
Stewart's  store,  N.  Y.,  30, 
Stewart's  Working  Girls'  Home,  41. 
Stock  Exchange,  N.  Y.,  17. 
Stockbridge,  Mass.,  146,  147. 
Stockbridge  Bowl,  144,  145. 
Stockbridge  Indians,  146. 
Stoddart,  Solomon,  131,  132. 
Stokes,  Edward,  27. 
Stone,  Lucy,  151. 
Stone  mill,  Newport,  171. 
Stones,  106,  150-152. 
Stonington,  Conn.,  170. 
Storms,  79,  80. 
Storrs,  Richard  S.,  67. 
Stratford,  Conn.,  Ill,  149. 
Strawberry  Bank,  N.  H.,  228. 
Study  Hill,  Pawtucket,  156. 
Stuyvesant,  Peter,  14,  29,  100. 
Stuyvesant  House,  N.  Y.,  29. 
Stuyvesant  Square,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Stuyvesant  Street,  N.  Y.,  29. 
Suburban  Handicap,  74. 
Suburban  parks,  N.  Y.,  101. 
Suckiang,  Conn.,  121. 
Suff'olk  county,  Mass.,  218. 
Sugarloaf  Mountain,  135,  136. 
Sun,  N.  Y.,  24. 

Surf  Avenue,  Coney  Island,  82. 
Swampscott,  Mass.,  215,  216. 
Swell  fronts,  Boston,  204. 


284 


INDEX. 


Synagogue,  N.  Y,,  44. 
Synagogue,  Newport,  172. 

Tabernacle,  Brooklyn,  67. 

Tack-making,  174. 

Taghkanic  Mountains,  127, 138, 149. 

Talcott  Mountain,  124. 

Talleyrand,  19. 

Talmage's  Tabernacle,  Brooklyn,  67. 

Tammany  Hall,  N.  Y.,  31. 

Tantallen,  Staten  Island,  95. 

Tarratines,  Indians,  248,  251,  254. 

Taunton  River,  173,  174. 

Temple,  Charlotte,  17. 

Temple  Emmanuel,  N.  Y.,  44. 

Ten-pound  Island,  Gloucester,  222. 

Tent  on  the  Beach,  226. 

Terrace,  Central  Park,  51. 

Textile  mills,  151-157,  159,  173. 

Thames  River,  109. 

Thames  Street,  Newport,  165. 

Thatcher's  Island  lights,  223,  237. 

Thaxter,  Celia,  233. 

Theological  Seminary,  Andover,  224. 

Thirty-second  Street,  N.  Y.,  39. 

Thirty-third  Street,  N.  Y.,  37. 

Thirty-fourth  Street.  N.  Y.,  37,  38. 

Thirty-fifth  Street.  N.  Y.,  40. 

Thirty -ninth  Street,  N.  Y.,  41. 

Thomaston,  Me.,  245,  254,  255. 

Thompson,  Launt,  139. 

Thompson's  Island,  Boston,  189. 

Thompsonville,  Conn.,  126. 

Throgg's  Neck,  103. 

Thumb,  Tom,  111. 

Ticknor  &  Fields,  Boston,  199. 

Ticknor's  Guide,  13. 

Tidewater  Pipe  Line,  96. 

Tiffany's  store,  N.  Y.,  30. 

Tilden,  Samuel  J.,  31. 

Times,  N.  Y.,  24. 

Tin-peddlers,  117. 

Tobacco-growing,  126,  132. 

Toby,  Mount,  136. 

Tom,  Mount,  111,  127,  131,  134, 

Tom  Thumb,  111. 

Tomb  Hill,  Saybrook,  120. 

Tombs  Prison,  N.  Y„  27. 

Tompkinsville,  Staten  Island,  95. 

Torpedo  school,  Newport,  171. 

Tottenville,  Staten  Island,  94. 

Touro,  Judah,  171. 

Touro  Park,  Newport,  171. 

Town  Brook,  Plymouth,  184. 

Tramps,  268. 

Transfiguration  Church,  N.  Y.,  36. 


Treasury,  N.  Y.,  17,  18. 
Tremont,  Boston,  191. 
Tremont  Street,  Boston,  192,  195. 
Tremont  Temple,  Boston,  195. 
Trenton,  N.  J.,  8. 
Tribune,  N.  Y.,  24. 
Tri-mountain,  Boston,  201. 
Trinity  Church,  Boston,  193. 
Trinity  Church,  N.  Y.,  11,  14,  15. 
Trinity  College,  Hartford,  118,  124. 
Trumbull,  Jonathan,  108. 
Turkeys,  146. 
Tweed  Ring,  25. 
Twentieth  Street,  N.  Y.,  31. 
Twenty-first  Street,  N.  Y.,  35. 
Twenty-third  Street,  N.  Y.,  32. 
Twenty-sixth  Street,  N.  Y.,  36. 
Twenty-seventh  Street,  N.  Y.,  36. 
Twenty-ninth  Street,  N.  Y.,  36. 

Umbagog  Lake,  N.  H.,  244. 
Union  Club,  New  York,  35. 
Union  League  Club,  N.  Y.,  42. 
Union  Metallic  Cartridge  Co.,  111. 
Union  Square  N.  Y.,  30. 
University  of  New  York,  35. 
University  Press,  Cambridge,  208. 

Valley  Falls,  R.  I.,  155,  156. 
Van  Corlaer,  Anthony,  100. 
Van  Cortlandt  Park,  N.  Y.,  101,  102. 
Vanderbilt,  Commodore,  42,  43,  98. 
Vanderbilt,  Cornelius,  48, 
Vanderbilt,  Frederick,  42. 
Vanderbilt,  George,  168. 
Vanderbilt,  William  H.,  43,  47,  48, 

98. 
Vanderbilt,  William  K.,  48,  168. 
Vanderbilt  farm,  Staten  Island,  98. 
Vanderbilt  mausoleum,  98. 
Vanderbilt   palaces,   N.  Y.,  38,  47, 

48. 
Vanderbilt  railroads,  42. 
Vanderbilt  steamer,  42. 
Verrazani,  13,  75. 
Victoria  Hotel,  N.  Y.,  36. 
Vinalhaven  Island,  Me.,  256,  261. 
Vinland,  159,  172. 

Wachdsett,  Mount,  127. 
Wadsworth     Atheneum,     Hartford, 

124. 
Wadsworth,  Fort,  N.  Y.,  89,  95. 
Waldemere,  Bridgeport,  111. 
Waldo,  Samuel,  254. 
Waldo  county.  Me.,  245,  254. 


INDEX. 


285 


Waldoboro',  Me.,  245,  255. 
Wall  Street,  14,  17. 
Wallabout  Bay,  Brooklyn,  62. 
Wallingford,  Conn.,  117. 
"Walloons  in  Brooklyn,  65. 
Wampanoag  Indians,  138. 
Wap-o-wang  River,  112. 
Ward's  Island,  N.  Y.,  58. 
Ware,  Mass.,  151. 
Warming-pans,  225. 
Warren,  Joseph,  198,  206. 
AVarren,  Fort,  Boston,  189. 
Washington,  George,  16,  53. 
Washington  Building,  N.  Y.,  11, 19, 

85. 
Washington  Heights,  N.  Y.,  21. 
Washington  Square,  N.  Y.,  34. 
Washington,  statue,  Boston,  193. 
Washington,  statue,  N.  Y.,  18,  30. 
Washington     Street,    Boston,    193, 

197-199. 
Washington's  desk  and  chair,  25. 
Washington's  headquarters,  N.  Y., 

19. 
Watch-House,  Plymouth,  185. 
Water  Street,  Boston,  193. 
Waterford,  R.  I.,  154. 
Webster,  Daniel,  177,  199. 
Webster,  Edward,  177. 
Webster,  Fletcher,  177. 
Weehawken,  N.  J.,  12. 
Wells,  Me.,  239. 
Wenham  Lake,  Mass.,  224. 
Wentworth,  Benning,  229,  230. 
Wentworth,  Lady,  of  tbe  Hall,  229, 

230. 
Wentworth  Hotel,  Newcastle  Island, 

229,  230. 
Wentworth      mansion,      Newcastle 

Island,  229. 
Wesleyan  College,  Middletown,  121. 
West  Brighton  Beach,  78,  79,  82. 
West  End,  Boston,  197,  203. 
West  End,  Portland,  241. 
West  Farms,  N.  Y.,  102. 
West  Peak,  iVIeriden,  117. 
West  Rock,  New  Haven,  115,  135. 
West  Street,  N.  Y.,  15. 
Westchester  county,  N.  Y.,  21,  54, 

100. 
Western   Mountain,  Mount  Desert, 

263. 
Western  Union  building,  N.  Y.,  23. 
Westfield,  Mass.,  150. 
Westfield  River,  150. 
Wethersfield,  Conn.,  121. 


Weymouth,  Capt.  George,  248. 

Whale-fishery,  176. 

Whale's    Back   Light,   Portsmouth, 

231,  237. 
Whalley,  11.5,  133. 
What  Cheer,  Notop  ?  159. 
What   Cheer    Cottage,    Providence, 

162. 
What  Cheer  Rock,  Providence,  159. 
Wheeler  &  Wilson  Sewing- Machine 

Co.,  111. 
Wheelwright,  John,  233. 
White,  Peregrine,  181. 
White  Island,  Isles  of  Shoals,  232. 
White  Island  Light,  232,  237. 
White  Mountains,  109,  127,  136,  227, 

236,  240,  243. 
White  Plains,  N.  Y.,  102. 
Whitefield,    George,   192,  198,  217, 

225. 
Whitehall,  N.  Y.,  19. 
Whitehall  Slip,  N.  Y.,  20,  93. 
Whitnev,  Eli,  108. 
WhittieV,    John   G.,    110,   140,  141, 

226,  246. 
Wild  West  Hotel,  Staten  Island,  97. 
William  III.,  229. 
William  Street,  N.  Y.,  18. 
Williams,  Betsy,  162. 
Williams,  Roger,  159,  162,  169,  220. 
Williams,  Roger,  bust,  161. 
Williams,  Roger,  statue,  162. 
Williams  Street,  Providence,  162. 
Williamsbridge,  N.  Y.,  102. 
Williamsburg.  N.  Y.,  21. 
Wiman,  Erastus,  91,  93. 
Windsor,  Conn.,  126. 
Windsor  Hotel,  N.  Y.,  45: 
Windsor  Locks,  Conn.,  126. 
Windyside,  Lenox,  144. 
Winslow,  Governor,  177. 
Winslow  House,  Marshfield,  177. 
Winthrop,  John,  188,  189,  196,  219. 
Winthrop,  Robert  C,  188. 
Winthrop,  Mass.,  210,  212,  215. 
Winthrop,  Fort,  Boston,  189,  212. 
Wiscasset,  Me.,  245. 
Witchcraft,  104,  220. 
Wizard,  Little,  45,  57. 
Wooden  Nutmeg  State,  109. 
Woodlawn  Cemetery,  N.  Y.,  46,  106. 
Woolwich,  Me.,  245. 
Woonsocket,  R.  I.,  155. 
Woonsocket  Hill,  R.  I.,  155. 
Worcester,  Mass.,  152. 
Worham,  John,  126. 


286 


INDEX. 


Working  Girls'  Home,  N.  Y.,  39,  41. 

World,  N.  Y.,  24. 
Woronoco,  Mass.,  150. 
Worth  monumeut,  N.  Y.,  32. 

Yachts,  261,  262,  266. 
Yale,  Elihu,  113. 


Yale  College,  108,  113,  114,  119. 

Yankee-land,  106. 

Yankee  notions,  108,  115,  117. 

Yardley,  Pa.,  8. 

York,  duke  of,  14,  92. 

York,  Me.,  239. 

York  Beach,  Me.,  239. 


THE  END. 


University  of 
Connecticut 

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